Demons
by Princepen
Summary: This is an alternate first mission for the STNG Enterprise crew. Originally posted years ago, I am reposting some old stuff. Please enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Demons**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek and neither does Disney...yet.**

**Chapter 1 **

It had rained the entire day. It was the kind of rain from which there was no escape. It came down in sheets and left a person so soaked that he appeared pathetic to anyone watching from inside a warm dry enclosure. It was also the kind of rain that one remembered quite fondly, after being in space for too long. Thinking back, it was one of the most notable features of that day, but certainly not what he most remembered.

What he remembered was the wrenching honesty of the day. It was the day of the funeral; the day he and everyone who had ever known the vibrant and funny Jack Crusher, had to admit that he was gone. For Jean-Luc Picard, who had witnessed Jack's death personally, and had continually relived Jack's horrifying last moments, he had finally found himself in a situation he was unable to face. A part of him, from that day on, wanted only to escape from the emotions, the pain, even the joy and laughter he had experienced as a result of being Jack's friend. Looking back, he had been largely successful in that regard. He had escaped back to his career, back to a long-known solitary life. But the one thing that had stayed with him nagging him through all these years was the guilt; the guilt of surviving, and for not having done enough to save jack from dying.

Most of all, he remembered _her_. There was no need to say her name in his head, because she was always there whether he wanted it or not. After the funeral, he had tried to leave without her knowing, but she caught him outside on the street. She had demanded answers. If he had expected her to be a demure and grieving widow, he should have known better. She was angry, and it seemed, she was angry at him.

Because he was so angry at himself, he did not feel her words. In fact, in those moments his own difficulty feeling anything seemed to be a shield against any hurtful words she could throw at him. And in a strange and perverse way he noticed that she was the most beautiful she had ever been, and that he was even more drawn to her in that moment, as she shouted at him with tears and rain streaming down her face.

"_Tell me what happened, Jean-Luc. I deserve to know the truth!"_

_Of course, she was right. But a dying Jack had forbidden it…." It was an accident, Beverly."_

"_You already told me that when we were on Star base 23."_

_He smoothed the short hair on top of his head and tried to rub the rain from his eyes with wet hands. "It all happened so fast. It was all so quick—he didn't suffer," he told her dully._

_Her eyes were a fierce cobalt blue as she peered, seemingly, into his soul. She shook her head obstinately. "I don't believe you." The other guests were leaving Beverly and Jack's apartment. They hesitated, and it seemed to Picard out of the corner of his eye that they wanted to stay to pay their respects to Beverly, but they must not have wanted to intrude, and after a few moments, continued their departure._

_He shook his head again. "I'm so sorry, Beverly," he said, indeed feeling at that moment like the sorriest man who had ever existed. He tried to take her hands in his in order to console her, when selfishly he knew he just wanted to feel her skin. "Jack was like family to me. After my parents died, Jack-" he flinched as she interrupted him._

_Beverly Crusher jerked her hands away from him. "How dare you! Family? What do you know about family, Jean-Luc Picard? You left your family behind for a career in Starfleet and all you have left is a brother who can't stand the sight of you." Her fury was a sight to behold. "My parents died too, Jean-Luc, years ago. But I didn't abandon them."_

"_Is that what you think happened? That I abandoned my family? That I abandoned Jack?"_

_She exhaled, shivering with cold. "You tell me, Jean-Luc. I told you that I want to know the truth. You told me that he didn't suffer, but he did, didn't he?"_

"_No," he said flatly._

"_Liar," she whispered. That word, and the way she said it, would always stay with him. She studied him for one more moment, but right then there was nothing left worth saying. What had just happened between them might never be reversed or repaired. With one last look at him, she turned and started back to her apartment._

_He watched her go and waited to leave until she had disappeared inside. It was only then that he noticed that the young boy, hardly four years old, was staring out the window at him._

* * *

**2364, Risa**

William T. Riker smiled to himself, feeling the sun gently warm his eyes through closed lids. The sun here was never too overbearing, for a sun of course. The air was warm, but not stifling. Overall, it was perhaps the most comfortable place in the galaxy. His smile widened as he silently reviewed the events of the past week.

Was she the most attractive woman on Risa? Well no, and she wasn't exactly the most available woman on the planet either. Actually, the women on Risa, and for that matter, the men too, were as a rule available to any visitor interested in a good time. But Riker had always enjoyed a challenge. He hadn't anticipated that the woman's significant other would have caught them in the act, or that he was an intergalactic crime boss, but that hadn't stopped Riker. And, let's face it, it had all been worth it.

It was the afternoon of his last day on shore leave. In less than a week he would embark on his new assignment. He was excited—to say the least. He would be serving aboard the _USS Enterprise D_, which he'd heard was still partly under construction. It was one of only a handful of Galaxy Class starships, mammoth ships built for exploration. Riker, currently serving aboard the _USS Hood_ as First Officer, had just turned down a Captaincy with the _USS Drake_. While some wondered out loud why he hadn't snatched up the _Drake_, Riker was smart enough to know that he was about to make history being second command on the ship that many believed would lead he rest of the fleet. Certainly, the name _Enterprise_ carried a special history no one could deny.

There was another reason he wanted to serve aboard the Enterprise. As soon as he had heard that Jean-Luc Picard returned from commanding a run-down scout ship on the far rim in order to command the Enterprise, Riker had wanted this assignment. Jean-Luc Picard, now 47 years old, had not only made Captain before he was 30, but had quite a storied past. It was known that he had survived at least two court martials and been involved in some serious combat. Most recently, nine years ago, he'd lost his ship, the Stargazer, during which he used a most ingenious tactic to save his ship and crew, which was later deemed unsalvageable. It had been all that was talked about in 2355, Riker's third year at the academy. As a kid, he couldn't help but be impressed. That tactic, known as the "Picard Maneuver", was now regularly being studied at the Academy by wide-eyed cadets.

Riker was excited for the opportunity to serve under Picard, even though he was known to be an exacting commanding officer and a difficult person to get to know. Riker's love for a challenge perhaps extended to his desire to crack the nut that was Jean-Luc Picard, and hopefully learn something in the process.

Riker's mind drifted back to his love of...well love, and he entered a very pleasant half dream state thinking about the last few days. He yawned. There was really no rush to return to the _Hood_ just yet. He was so drowsy that he felt the tug on his shirt before he heard the thundering footsteps. His eyes snapped open to see Boldo, the unhappy boyfriend of Mena, Riker's latest fling. "Ahh!" Riker yelled, mostly out of alarm.

"Raahr!" Boldo shouted back. He was a humongous purple creature. The female of his species certainly had been blessed with the good looks. It was clear also that although speaking two different languages, Boldo and Riker understood each other perfectly: that is, Boldo wanted to kill Riker, and Riker did not want to die. Grabbing his badge beside him on the lounge chair, he was just able to squeak, "This is Riker, one to beam up," before Boldo's huge hands tightened around his throat. In that instant, he shimmered away, with a very happy grin on his face.

* * *

Beverly Crusher was deeply engrossed in a saga of cleaning, throwing away miscellaneous items, and packing. Very soon, she and her teenage son Wesley would depart Earth for life aboard a starship. At first, she had been hesitant to throw herself into the task. First, she hated packing. Secondly, a part of her wondered if this would even work out. She told herself to give it a few months, and if it was completely intolerable, she and Wesley would simply leave, and transfer back to Earth. She had already been told by higher ups at Starfleet Medical that a position would be waiting for her, if she changed her mind.

If Wesley hadn't been so excited, she might have reconsidered. But Wesley was special, and a unique intellect required a unique kind of education. Having spent six months on a starship early in her career, she knew the benefits and wonders of exploration. She also knew the dangers, but she felt confident that Wesley would be as safe as possible on this particular ship. There were also other things she wanted for Wesley; things she was not yet willing to acknowledge were also things that she wanted for herself.

She felt extremely mixed emotions leaving this apartment behind. It was the home she had shared with Jack, and for the past ten years she had raised her son in it as a single mother. Now she would use it only on shore leave or when the _Enterprise_ visited Earth. The anticipation of seeing the ship for the first time made her smile.

The door chimed. "Dammit," she hissed. If there was one thing she hated more than packing for a trip it was being interrupted while doing so. One had to be focused for such a mundane and infuriating task. Her door was equipped with an older model identification panel. The visitor touched a groove in the door or knocked on the door if they wanted to be archaic about it and if the person was recognized as a known or frequent visitor a chime sounded and a holograph of the visitor appeared just inside the door. The door chimed again. She glanced at the holograph. It was certainly a familiar face. "Yes, come in," she said still somewhat testily.

In strolled Walker Keel looking better than ever and it was clear he had something up his proverbial sleeve. He also had his arm draped over the shoulders of Wesley Crusher. "Well look who I found outside. Your little genius," announced Walker.

Wesley scowled up at him with carefully manufactured angst. Walker responded by ruffling the boy's hair which further irritated the teen. Wes gave a half pleading look to his mother. Beverly rolled her eyes as if to say: "I'm not getting involved".

Walker, who had been on extended leave from his ship the _Horatio_ for the past two months, had been a true friend of Beverly's since she was just a kid. She knew Walker long before she had met Jack and Jean-Luc; in fact, without Walker, she might never have met either of them. Over the years he'd been the only person that she could really rely on, and for that she would always be grateful.

Despite her deep affection for Walker, he could be a bit much sometimes. First of all, he was a natural politician, and could talk you in to, or out of anything. While she trusted him, she knew he'd had some adventures through the years which involved keeping the secrets of Starfleet Intelligence, and that even he had a dark side, though he hid it well. Beverly looked up and then went back to what she'd been doing. Walker was notoriously slow to get to the point, in part because he loved to talk, and she knew if she waited long enough, he would explain why he'd come.

Walker stopped teasing her son long enough to indicate "It's ship's business"

Crusher straightened her stiff back and put her hands on her hips. "Wes have you finished packing? We've only got a few days left." Wesley shrugged.

"Come on, snap to it," she said in a mock dangerous voice.

Walker watched as Wesley scuffed out of the room. "What's with him? I thought he was excited about the new assignment."

Beverly shrugged off some of her growing doubts. "He's fourteen years old and is hot and cold. She put her hands on her hips again. Tired of guessing, she focused on her friend like a laser. "What's going on walker?"

"Command is just ecstatic about your appointment Beverly."

"Ha. You could have fooled me. I had to go through three different interview panels just to get the position. For a bunch of ecstatic people, they certainly made me work for it "  
"And your hard work paid off as usual." He paused.  
She raised an eyebrow. "Have you just decided to patronize me all day or are you going to get to the point?  
Walker grinned. "Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look today?"

Beverly flushed. "Come on, Keel… as you can see I've got a mountain of material things to sort through here and I'd like to finish before dinner."

Walker frowned but said "fair enough" as he began to pace around the living room.

"He doesn't know yet," he said, finally stopping and facing her.

She folded her arms over her chest. "_Who_ doesn't know _what_?" She said knowing full well who and what.

"_Jean-Luc_. He doesn't know you are coming aboard as Chief Medical Officer."

"And why not? He's Captain. I'm sure he made it his business to know exactly who's been posted."

"To put it bluntly no one at Command wants to deal with this issue. They've sent me to do the job."

"This issue?" She felt her face flush hot again, and this time, it wasn't due to flattery. "Walker, what on earth are you talking about?"

"Well the consensus is that he is not going to take it well that you have been assigned to the Enterprise."

He watched as ten different emotions at once seemed to flutter over Beverly's face.

Then, to his surprise she began to laugh. "Not going to take it well. Is he a child or a starship captain? Look, Walker, you and I both know Jean-Luc Picard, and if there is one thing he pays attention to, it is his duty. Once he has his orders, he'll be fine." She picked up the book again.

"He has the right to veto, you know."

"And what makes you think that he would? In any case, I would certainly have a right to challenge his veto, wouldn't I?"

Walker sighed. "Yes."

Crusher shrugged. "This is not my problem, Walker. And you're not going to make me believe that it is." She tossed the book to him, which he caught with some effort.

"Okay, just do me a favor," he called after her as she exited the room. "Don't say anything to him before I tell him."

Slowly she walked back into the room and fixed him with a baffled expression. "Walker, I haven't seen him in eight years, and we didn't exactly leave on the best of terms."

"Yes, I recall," he said drily. The scene of their most recent meeting had been at Walker's birthday party eight years previously, and her description of that meeting was kind of an understatement, he noted to himself.

"So… under what set of circumstances would I would run into him and casually mention that I will be joining his ship?"

Walker scratched his head. "I see your point."

* * *

**Three Weeks later…**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat with perfect posture at a small table in his hotel. The early afternoon sun was beginning to heat up and as it streamed through the window, it warmed the side of his face. An empty bowl of soup sat next to his elbow. In one hand he loosely held a cup of hot tea, while his other hand tapped at the small computer screen in front of him as the latest Starfleet Command communique streamed in. All the time he had spent out on the outer rim guarding the borders of the federation in the _Sentry _had involved few communiques from Starfleet.

The _Sentry_ had been a swift but run-down little scout ship. It was certainly about twenty steps down from the Stargazer or any other starship for that matter; hardly a prime command. In fact, no one had believed he was in his right mind when he had sought out the assignment. Perhaps they were right. But it was what he needed to set his life in order, such as it was. And the anonymity didn't hurt either. In fact, it had been all he had wanted after facing court martial first for losing his best friend and second officer, then the_ Stargazer_ the following year.

He sighed and harrumphed a bit to himself as the long message from Command continued to drone on. He hadn't missed the bureaucracy -not one damn bit. He frowned and then re-read the end of the message, almost disbelievingly. Was he finally going to receive his bridge and command officer roster? In less than a week he would be shipping out on the Enterprise for the first time, and for over one month he had been kept in the dark as to both the crew complement and the officers who would be serving with him. At first, he had been annoyed, but one month later he was simply bored with waiting.

The only thing that had saved him was his daily routine. In the mornings he went for a run. Then he made his way to Command to review any news regarding the continuing construction of his new ship and to catch up on the daily news briefs from around the Federation. Then he would return to his apartment for a bit of reading and more exercise. Just minutes ago he had finished his last set of pushups for the day. Later in the afternoon he would work out with the Academy wrestling team and then perhaps go for a quick swim.

Now it appeared that Command would interrupt his routine tomorrow morning. His superiors now requested that he present at headquarters the next day after undergoing his final physical before shipping out. He was more than eager to learn of his crew assignments and hoped he would not be put at a disadvantage for having not been notified sooner.

* * *

When he walked into the briefing room, he was not surprised in the slightest to see Walker Keel. He and Walker had spent some time together over the last month. That walker was his good friend would never change. However, Picard had on several occasions during the last month struggled to keep his annoyance in check. He highly suspected that Walker knew a good deal more about his new assignment on the _Enterprise_ than he did. This whole posting had been shrouded in secrecy from the moment it was announced a new Enterprise ship would be back in service.

He was slightly early, he noted, glancing at a nearby clock. He sat down next to Walker, and placed his data pad on the table. "Where is everyone?" he asked Walker, who was busy studying something on his own computer screen.

"Oh, it's just me," said Walker casually. "I'm briefing you." He looked up to see Picard's eyebrows furrowed together, which was never a good sign.

"You're briefing me…Walker, this is highly irregular. We're the same rank, for goodness sake."

Walker shrugged innocently. "Nevertheless…alright, so first, the mission." Picard continued to glare at him, but Picard did slowly pick up his data pad, and held it at the ready, as Walker began speaking. "We have a potentially incendiary situation brewing between two of the founding cultures of the Federation. There is no way to illustrate how disastrous it would be if these two planets came to blows. About two months ago-and the details are still sketchy on this—a small group of radical Vulcans calling themselves the Redeemers left the planet Vulcan on a cargo ship. The data indicates that they were on some kind of religious pilgrimage that involved the Romulans."

"Radical Vulcans? How odd. Were they traveling to Romulus?" asked Picard.

Walker shook his head. "We don't know. But we do know that they never made it there. Instead, it appears that an Andorian sentry ship engaged the Redeemer ship in battle near the Andorian home world, of Andor."

"Who was the aggressor?"

"We don't know that either, Jean-Luc. What we do know is that the Vulcan ship was crippled, and was forced to crash land on a moon inhabited by Andorian colonists. After that, everything is in dispute."

"What do you mean?"

"According to the Andorians the entire colony was wiped out."

Picard was horrified. "Vulcans are a disciplined and largely peaceful people. I can't believe that—"

"Some or all of the Vulcan adults were killed as well, and the belief is that the children of the Vulcans somehow commandeered a ship and escaped the moon."

"And the Enterprise has been dispatched to locate these…missing children?"

"Yes, preferably before the Andorians do. And because of the urgency, you are to leave tomorrow, which I recognize is a change of plans. Enterprise is now in orbit, and ready for its first mission."

"I am forwarding you all of the files available," added Walker, tapping at his pad. "All of this talk of children has reminded me of the next topic I was asked to cover, Captain," Walker said with a small smile. "The crew complement of this ship is just over 1000 people, as you are aware." Picard nodded. "And, Starfleet has asked me to inform you that there will be families aboard."

Picard stood up slowly, palms on the table. "By families, I am sure you mean couples…of course we can't prevent our officers from having relationships-"

"No, Jean-Luc, I mean families with children."

"This is absurd," said Picard, showing his first signs of anger. "We might be going into battle...well you know yourself, Walker. The dangers are too many to name. I don't agree with this," he muttered, cursing under his breath. He sat back down and looked at Walker with an air of defeat and resigned acceptance. He should have asked harder questions of his superior officers sooner. He was already committed to commanding this experimental ship and crew. "So, I am presuming this is why they sent you to brief me?"

"Well, there is also the list of bridge and command officers. I suggest you get ready to take some notes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**One Year Ago on Vulcan**

"T'Pel, daughter of Suvok, do you seek to attain the pure form, the Kolinahr?"

T'Pel stood silently, for she sensed that the correct answer was to not seek or to avoid Kolinahr. These emotions were not logical.

The Priestess paused before speaking again. "T'Pel of Vulcan, you have completed the five rites and the desert trial. You have achieved supreme dominance over your inner-self, such that you will be influenced by no other being. To do these things alone or in the monastic order is admirable, however you will be tested further when you re-enter the world of emotional, undisciplined beings. Many tasks remain for you to complete. Do you accept this challenge, T'Pel of Vulcan?"

"Yes," said T'Pel. According to the custom she bowed her head to allow the Priestess to place a large stone and gem necklace around her neck. As she stood straight, She reflected that had she undergone this ceremony years ago, she would have failed. The emotions she held in those days would have consumed and overwhelmed her. Now, at the end of a four year study in the control of her emotions, she felt no turmoil, only calm.

* * *

**Present Day-2364**

Ja'nel was afraid. For many weeks he had hidden his clan on a moon that was barely habitable. He was accustomed to desert living but this atmosphere was thin, not like the dense air of Vulcan. The rations were few, and the water scarce. He and T'Kal, the older girl had tried gathering food from the surrounding vegetation, but had found little to sustain them.  
There were few water sources at least in the region in which they had crashed. Thar, the most mechanically inclined of all of them was charged with repairing the cargo ship. Thar was smart but he had limited resources.

Without a working ship he and the others would be unable to stay concealed from the Outworlders for much longer.

* * *

** Starfleet Command-Earth**

The next few minutes, as Walker began to run through the bridge and command officers posted to the _Enterprise_, Picard calmed down considerably. He was pleased to learn that William Riker had been assigned to the ship. He had heard impressive things about the _Hood's_ first officer. There was a concern, however. "Why did he turn down his own command? He's been one of the more ambitious officers."

"The reason he provided is that he wanted to serve under you. You won't be let down, Jean-Luc. He may be ambitious, but that is far overshadowed by his sense of loyalty. However, he has been described as territorial by his current Captain with regard to conducting away team missions. Riker is of the philosophy that ship's Captains should not be put at risk just to beam down to every shitty planet, unless their presence is necessary."

"Yes, as long as he understands it is the Captain who decides whether his presence is necessary, I suppose I can muddle through."

Walker smiled. "Expect some resistance."

Picard shrugged and looked down at his data pad. "Next, we have Lt. Commander Data, second officer." He looked up suddenly. "I've heard of this officer. How absolutely remarkable." He scanned the file further. "He's been in Starfleet nearly 20 years…and yet he is only a Lt. Commander." He frowned. "Walker, Commander Data has been decorated on several occasions. Has anyone looked into why he hasn't been promoted more frequently?"

"If I had to guess, there is still some hesitance about having an android command a Starship, or even to be first officer. So, despite his capabilities, they've kept the training wheels on Mr. Data, so to speak."

"Then by 'hesitance', you mean prejudice. Yes, I can read between the lines, Walker. Next," he said curtly.

"Chief of Security, Lt. Natasha Yar," said Walker.

"Oh yes," said Picard, clearly pleased. "I had asked for Lt. Yar to be assigned. About a year ago, the _Sentry _ was called to assist on a rescue mission on Carnelia. Yar rescued one of the colonists by crawling through a minefield. She showed no fear. I only met her briefly, but when you first told me about the _Enterprise_ being commissioned, I immediately thought of her."

"Yes, she is perfectly suited to your command style. Great attention to duty, follows orders to the letter…troubled background. Perfect for you."

"What do you mean, 'troubled'?"

"Put simply, she grew up in a hell hole. The result however is a finely tuned officer, who will show you the utmost loyalty."

"Moving on," said Picard. He frowned. This couldn't be right. "Lt. Commander Deanna Troi. A ship's counselor on my bridge crew? Whose idea was this?"

Walker laughed. "Look, Starfleet wants counselors on the bridge on all Galaxy Class starships. They want to see whether there is a positive effect on the crew in times of stress. Think of it as a pilot program."

"The last thing I am interested in while on the bridge is getting in touch with my feelings," Picard snapped.

"Don't worry, Jean-Luc, you're safe. In order to get in touch with your feelings, you have to have them in the first place."

In response, Picard fixed his friend with an icy stare.

"Besides," said Walker easily. "Troi isn't just a counselor, she is a Betazoid with empathic skills; not quite telepathic, but it could come in handy in certain situations, don't you think?"

Picard grunted, and looked down at his data pad, which Walker knew from experience did not signal his approval. As Picard continued to read, his eyebrows continued to rise. Walker noted that if he'd had a hairline, they would have disappeared behind it.

"I must admit, I did not expect a Klingon crew member, although I am intrigued."

"I thought you might be, given your history with Klingons. Worf is different though. He was raised by humans for most of his life. He will be your primary relief officer at the Conn and Ops, and he also appears to know tactical systems quite well."

"Excellent," said Picard. He began reading again then looked up at Walker questioningly. "My helmsman has a visual prosthesis..." Picard slowly put the data pad down on the table with a click. "Walker is my new ship's pilot blind? "

"No...he has corrected vision. In fact it is so corrected that he can see better than we do. At least in the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums. And he's an excellent pilot and technician."

"Well I am familiar with visor technology, but there are implants that could replace his visor."

"Yes, well according to his personnel record he is not interested in replacing his visor," Walker replied. "Jean-Luc…as with Troi, I hope you will recognize the extra abilities your crew has."

Picard sighed. "And the Chief Medical Officer?"

"Doctor Beverly Crusher," said Walker as smoothly as possible.

Picard fell silent. The air in the room was suddenly suffocating. "I see," he said. As he stared at his friend, Picard found it increasingly difficult to hide just how disturbedhe was by this announcement. "Walker, why on earth would she request a position on my ship? The woman _hates_ me," he suddenly blurted out.

"Jean-Luc, Beverly doesn't hate you, trust me."

"Trust _you_? You're the one who kept this from me for weeks!"

"Only because I was ordered to do so. You know I can't keep a secret."

"No doubt that is supposed to make me feel better. There must be some kind of mistake here. Is she aware that I am the Captain?"

"Yes, I think she was well-aware of that fact when she applied for the position."

Picard realized his mouth was hanging open awkwardly, and clamped it shut. "Walker, the woman—"

"A little advice; if you want to come to terms with having her aboard your ship, you may want to stop referring to her as "the woman". I don't think she's going to respond well to that title. This is real, Jean-Luc...you can't avoid her forever."

Picard placed his hands on the table and stood up. Gathering his composure, he said, "Is that the entire list of bridge crew and command?"

"Yes. Listen, Jean-Luc, if you would like to talk about this—"

"No, I would not," he snapped. "I have my orders, and I will carry them out. Now, let's talk further about this mission." He sat down, hands folded, and looked at Walker with as placid expression as he could manage.

* * *

"How is it possible that mere children could evade a whole fleet of Andorian ships searching for them?"

"That is certainly the primary mystery here, Jean-Luc, at least right now." Walker looked up as the door to the briefing room swished open. He didn't seem the least bit surprised to see a hooded figure dressed in robes glide into the briefing room. Picard was not as trusting as Walker, and stood up abruptly to face the new visitor.

"Lucky for us, we were able to secure a Vulcan consultant to accompany you on your mission, Captain," Walker said with a smile

As he spoke, the visitor pulled away the hood, to reveal an old friend. "T'Pel!" Picard did not even try to hide his astonishment at seeing one of his oldest colleagues standing before him. He hadn't seen her in years, and yet here she was.

"Captain," the Vulcan woman acknowledged him with a slight head nod. Her face was absent of emotion. He knew from experience that Vulcans had emotions just like humans; the difference was their ability to control their emotions to comport with their philosophy, placing logic above all else. When he had known her before, she had been disciplined of course, but there was something new.

"I must correct you, Captain Keel. I am not a 'consultant'. I am however an emissary from the Vulcan High Council. The Council has charged me with bringing the Redeemer children back to Vulcan; if possible, alive and unharmed." Her tone was matter-of-fact. She had a job and she did not expect to fail. Picard noted that her beautiful features were more angular than they had been, and her face more weathered, although she was still young in Vulcan years. Her skin had darkened, no doubt the result of the hot Vulcan sun.

Walker smiled tightly. "Well, as long as our purposes are the same, we should have no problem carrying out the mission."

T'Pel raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you would qualify that statement?"

"I mean that Starfleet is concerned with averting a war between the Andorians and your home world."

"Even if that means delivering the Vulcan children to the Andorians?"

Walker stood up, and his expression had grown very serious. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Human metaphors aside, you appear to be questioning my loyalty," said T'Pel.

"Well, you did leave Starfleet almost ten years ago—"

"Walker!" Picard held up his hand. "I don't like where this conversation is headed."

T'Pel seemed unfazed. "You are correct, Captain Keel. I did leave Starfleet, for reasons which are documented in my personnel file. And since I am no longer a Starfleet Officer, your questions about my loyalty are illogical. I will assist the mission as long as I am allowed to carry out my duty to protect the children."

Walker eyed Picard. Walker acknowledged to himself that the more he pressed the issue, the more likely he was to affect the mission negatively. Walker nodded. "We appreciate any assistance you can provide."

T'Pel bowed, and turned to exit the room. Picard shot Walker a glance and followed her down the corridor.

Picard and T'Pel stood and faced each other once they emerged into the bright sunshine of the courtyard. "T'Pel," Picard ventured. "I know it has been a long time since we've seen each other. I certainly didn't think we would meet in this way…but I am glad to see you."

T'Pel remained silent for a few more moments. "Five earth years ago I began the journey of Kolinahr. My mind is now untroubled and free from the emotions of gladness which you express. I sense in you a great restlessness, Captain. You long for the past, and yet you hope that the future will not cause you so much pain."

Picard smiled sadly. She knew him very well. Of course, when they had known each other all of those years ago, they had been not only colleagues, but lovers. That is, they had been lovers until it had become clear to T'Pel that she was a replacement for someone else. At least, she had told him as much. For a time, he had believed that T'Pel had cared deeply for him, even loved him. He did not think he had loved her, but they had formed a strong physical and emotional bond. Vulcan telepathy, he guessed, had made his feelings for her quite intense and intimate. And, to her credit, when she broke it off with him, she was not bitter, nor did she seem to change in her professionalism or her outward respect for him.

He could remember almost as clear as it was yesterday, denying his love for Beverly Crusher, to T'Pel, the only person he had known who had directly confronted him about his feelings for Beverly. He had always admitted to himself that he felt a strong attraction to Beverly, perhaps at times, even an obsession. Because of the circumstances he had told himself so long ago that this attraction could never become anything more. That had been years ago.

"I am impressed that you have achieved Kolinhar," he said, coming back to the present. He knew something of the Vulcan ritual, which could last years. Its purpose was to perfect the Vulcan's mastery of their emotions, particularly primal ones.

"I am still to be tested. In fact, perhaps meeting you again, is my first test."

Picard had no idea how to respond to that, so he fell silent for a few moments. Unintentionally, he glanced down at her left hand. The last time he had seen her, she had been fitted with a temporary, robotic prosthetic arm. She had lost her left arm during the same incident in which Jack Crusher had lost his life. Picard had risked his own life to bring T'Pel to safety, but he hadn't been strong enough to do the same for Jack.

"You are staring at my arm," T'Pel calmly observed.

Picard's mouth was dry. He realized he had been drifting in thought. "I—I'm sorry. I suppose you are right. Perhaps I am too focused on the past. It's just that the last time I saw you…well I had wondered how you were recovering."

T'Pel raised her arm and looked at her hand as she flexed it. "I chose an advanced version of the robotic arm. I had the option of cloning, of course, but this has served me well. As you can see, the appearance is quite accurate."

"Yes, quite so." Picard had no idea what to say next, and prayed she would decide to leave.

"Captain, I will take my leave of you now until we board the Enterprise. And Captain, congratulations." She re-fitted her hood and walked away quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Outside on the grounds, Walker was relentless. His long legs helped him catch up quickly with Picard, who he feared might break into a run. "I'm worried about you my friend. You've been living like a hermit. Constant exercise and reading are no substitute for human companionship."

"I'm fine, Walker," said Picard, sounding bored.

"When was the last time you were with a woman anyway?" Walker shouted, somewhat out of breath. He noted that Picard looked as though he could run a marathon, and probably was considering doing so.

Picard slowed a bit, but didn't stop walking. "My, we're getting a bit personal aren't we?"

"Friends get personal, Jean-Luc. But since you're sensitive, I'll put it another way... when was your last meaningful relationship?"

"Define 'meaningful', Walker. After all, you are onto your fourth divorce now, aren't you?" He couldn't help taking a shot at Walker's own personal life, given the topic of conversation. However, it was true: Walker had been married four times and was currently in the midst of his fourth divorce.

Walker stopped abruptly, and for a quick moment, he wondered if he should duck, in case Walker was angry about his last comment. But Walker just laughed loudly. "Wait, was it that Orion pirate woman, you picked up?" he snapped his fingers. "What was her name?"

"Neela," Picard grumbled. "Although to call my…encounter with her 'meaningful' is to stretch the definition considerably," he added.

Walker seemed exasperated. "My point is, Jean-Luc, is that you have relationship issues. And you need to get rid of some of this baggage, if you want a friendship with Beverly. You do want to be her friend, don't you?"

Picard halted. "Walker, have you been in contact with her? Have you been discussing these subjects with her?" His eyes searched Walker's face accusingly. Walker's face remained blank, but Picard could tell he was hiding something. "Well then," said Picard coldly. "We're done with this conversation. I will see you in two days when we ship out."

* * *

As annoyed as Picard was with Walker, he knew he had been isolating himself from other people ever since he'd accepted his _Enterprise_ post. Calling him a hermit was not entirely inaccurate. He didn't know why. He'd always been a reserved person, but over the last ten years, he knew he had been damaged by the death of Jack Crusher and the loss of his ship. He knew that both events had caused him to isolate himself more than ever, and he knew he had to change that. How to change it, he had no idea, because part of being a commanding officer was isolation.

It was on this premise, of starting anew, that he decided to stop in at a bar that evening for a drink. He hadn't had a drink in two months, because he had been trying to condition himself physically. But, he told himself, why not indulge a bit now, just before shipping out?

The ambiance of the bar was nothing special. It was mostly Starfleet personnel stopping in between assignments or Academy cadets and professors out to socialize. He sat down at a table in a corner, an isolated one, and ordered a beer and a sandwich. As he sipped, his eyes traveled the room casually. Seeing it was safe and he knew no one in the bar, he began to eat, knowing he would be undisturbed. For some reason, at that moment, he glanced toward the door.

That was when he saw her walk in. She was with a man, probably a medical colleague, he thought; not that it was any of his business. Forgetting that he had not swallowed, he choked slightly, and then drank the rest of the beer just to keep from having a coughing fit. He felt his eyes were glued to her and couldn't look away. It had been something like seven or eight years, but she just never seemed to age. Or rather, she improved with age.

He stopped staring, and sipped his water. Unable to even focus on drinking water, he nervously rubbed his hands on his pants, wondered if he should just leave. Deciding he should, he stood up. The silverware clattered to the floor, and he picked it up angrily. As he placed it back on the table, he saw that she was staring at him. He felt something like a bolt of electricity activating something in his brain that had been dormant since he had seen her last. She didn't smile, but she didn't look like she hated him either. If anything, she appeared uncertain whether to say anything. She glanced at her friend, to whom she said something quietly, and then the man turned to look at Picard, and smiled. Before anything else could happen, Picard turned on his heel and walked out of the bar as confidently as possible.

* * *

**Two Days Later...**

Lt. junior grade Geordi LaForge waited patiently at Space Dock for the shuttle to pick him up. Space dock was under re-construction, and so the Enterprise and any other ships in orbit were unable to dock there, at least temporarily. Consequently, shuttles had been making runs all day from space dock to the Enterprise which was now orbiting the Earth. It was an incredibly beautiful sight. So, although he had been waiting for nearly an hour, he wouldn't have minded gazing at the ship all day from the outside. But the problem was, he actually had to be somewhere. A crisis near Andor had apparently arisen, requiring the Enterprise crew to embark on their maiden voyage a bit sooner than anyone had expected. Geordi, had no idea what was in store, but for his part, he was ecstatic. He had memorized the schematics for the new ship after reading them over and over. How much this would help him helming the ship, he had no idea, but there was always the possibility of transfer or even the chance for promotion in a few years, he supposed. If so, he needed to expand his knowledge in order to be useful to the Captain.

He'd met Picard a few years ago on a shuttle run during an inspection, but frankly doubted if the man remembered him at all. Picard was known to have intimidated many young officers, and Geordi's plan was, wherever possible, to simply stay out of his way. Of course, LaForge's position as a bridge officer, might make that plan completely unrealistic, but he simply wouldn't know until he tried. He felt some comfort that Commander Riker would be transferring over from the _USS_ _Hood_ with him. Although he didn't know Riker well personally, at least he would have a familiar face, and a higher up who was familiar with his work record.

He turned at the sound of several pairs of footsteps behind him. Even through the filter of his visor, he could see in an instant that each figure was distinctly different from the other. They were in fact, three different species. The first figure he scanned was tall and broad shouldered with a distinctly large cranium. His bone structure was too sturdy to be a human. The figure in the middle was much shorter and slim but athletic; a very attractive human woman. The third figure almost stumped him, until he analyzed this person's infrared signature. This person registered far lower on the thermal radiation scale than the other two individuals. Analyzing his circulatory system showed not only an absence of human blood, but what fluids there were de-oxygenated. If the person weren't walking toward him, Geordi would have guessed he was deceased. That is, except for a glowing aura around the figure's body which told Geordi the person was very alive.

Geordi smiled as the three approached. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm Geordi. Uh," he turned at as the warm glow of radiation from the shuttle surrounded him. "Here's our ride."

The woman approached Geordi, and he smiled sunnily again. It appeared she was not impressed. "Name and rank," she said icily.

Geordi's smile faded and he stood up straighter at attention. "Lt. J.G. Geordi LaForge reporting for duty at the helm, sir."

The woman nodded briskly. "Chief of Security, Tasha Yar. Nice to meet you," she added, just as professionally.

Now slightly off his game, and not sure how to approach the other two officers, Geordi relaxed a bit, but adopted a more formal stance than was normal for him. The large man nodded. "I am Lt. J.G. Worf. I _hope_ that it will be an honor to serve with you on the bridge," he said to Geordi with a deep rumble. Geordi nodded, not exactly sure how to take that statement.

He turned to the third of his new companions. "Hello, Lieutenant LaForge. I am Lt. Commander Data, Second Officer. I am pleased to meet you. May I ask you what frequency you are viewing me on through your visor?"

Geordi grinned. "Infrared. But in ultraviolet, you really glow."

Data looked perplexed, but said "thank you".

Geordi noticed Lt. Yar's heat index was beginning to rise. "Sir," she said to Data with barely held patience. "I think we should be going now." Data nodded and they began to board the shuttle.

* * *

Captain Picard sat in his new Ready Room with a new sense of awe. He was glad to be the only command officer on board at the moment, because he was nearly overwhelmed by the elegance of his new ship. Aside from the two Chief Engineers, Sarah MacDougal and Donald Argyle who had both been bothering him regularly about the unfinished warp drive tests, he had been left alone.

With the other crew members and families gradually streaming on board, he was able to allow himself to come to terms with this new responsibility. Of course, he had commanded other ships before, but they had been gritty utilitarian vessels, that didn't always function as you wanted them to. This ship was something else entirely. He had the impression that if he said the right words to it, it might be able to oblige.

But very quickly, he had gotten down to business. A few minutes earlier he had received a call from T'Pel, who had indicated she wanted to talk further about the mission. "Come," he said, responding to a chime. T'Pel entered, still dressed in civilian Vulcan garb but something less monk-like than when he had seen her on Earth. He stood and offered her a seat. "Care for some tea?"

"No thank you, Captain," she said, sitting down gracefully. He sat back down, and waited expectantly for her to speak. "Captain, there are some things you need to know before you embark on this mission."

"Oh?" Apparently she hadn't felt comfortable sharing this information with Walker, but then the tension between his two old friends had been obvious.

"You have heard the term 'Redeemers', have you not?"

"Yes, this is the group of children we are looking for. Aside from that, I have had difficulty finding much about the Redeemers in the Vulcan news service."

T'Pel nodded. "Information about the Redeemers has been deliberately suppressed by the Vulcan High Council. There is…concern that the Redeemers represent potential chaos, and a threat to the fabric of Vulcan Society. The Redeemers are what Humans might refer to as 'religious zealots'."

Picard was somewhat shocked. "I didn't know such a thing existed in Vulcan society," he said.

"Neither did most Vulcans until just less than one year ago. The Redeemers made their home deep in the desert, away from any population centers. Prior to fleeing Vulcan several months ago, the Redeemers were a group numbering just under thirty, led by an unusually powerful telepath named Ra'Val. Unlike most Vulcans where telepathic powers are strongest through touch, Ra'Val was able to not only reach the mind through thought but could control the minds of others as well. Ra'Val advocated a return to the use of emotion, as opposed to the subjugation of it to logic. In fact, he preached the irrelevance of logic; a position opposite to that of traditional Vulcan doctrine. Ra'Val seemed obsessed with re-unification of the Vulcan and Romulan societies, but his writings seem to indicate he wanted the Romulans to succumb to Vulcan rule."

"Now I understand your reference to religious zealotry. It seems an extreme position for any Vulcan to hold," said Picard. "It also seems completely unrealistic. The Federation hasn't had meaningful contact from the Romulans for over fifty years, since the signing of the Treaty of Algeron," he added. "We've no idea whether the Romulans would be interested in unifying any segment of Vulcan society."

"Whether or not the Redeemers were attempting to travel to Romulus is not known, and if Ra'Val and the other adults are now dead, the motive for leaving Vulcan may no longer be necessary to know."

"If Ra'Val and the other adults were killed on the Andorian moon, why are the Andorians seeking them out? Surely they are not going to kill, or even try or convict young children."

"Captain, I would normally agree, however, the extent of the death toll in the Andorian colony may have caused the Andorian perspective to become more extreme. It is imperative that we reach the children before the Andorians." T'Pel sat back in her chair, relaxing her posture a bit and folded her hands.

Picard sipped his tea with a worried expression. "How could these children possibly have kept themselves hidden for this long? In fact, we have no idea whether they are even still alive."

"The Redeemer children are not typical of children you might have met during your life, Captain. They may be unusually self-sufficient, as they are used to surviving with very little."

Picard shrugged. "I won't pretend to know anything about children, T'Pel, but I still find this situation difficult to comprehend." He paused. "At any rate, I am grateful to have you along on this one."

T'Pel glanced around the room with subdued interest. "The Galaxy Class starship is quite elegant," she observed.

"Hmm," he agreed. "It's very different from the _Stargazer_, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said. "It seems this ship represents the future of Starfleet. And yet, as we embark on this journey we may be forced to confront our pasts."

Picard frowned. "I'm assuming you are talking about you and me meeting again."

"Perhaps," she said. She paused a moment more before speaking again. "Is it true that Beverly Crusher will be joining this crew as well?" Her tone was completely even.

"Yes," Picard said slowly, not sure why he suddenly felt so uneasy. He'd never been aware of any difficulty between T'Pel and Beverly, and for his own sake he hoped there wouldn't be any now.

T'Pel stood up. "That is most satisfactory," she said. "I have much to discuss with her. Captain," she said, bidding him goodbye. She turned and Picard watched T'Pel leave the room without another word. Once she had gone, his uneasiness remained.

* * *

Riker stepped, or rather jumped aboard one of the last shuttlecraft to leave for the _Enterprise_, just before it lifted off. The shuttle, although large, was crammed with people, all of which appeared to be civilians. In fact, the only other person in uniform was the pilot. "Grab a seat sir, we are on our way," she said, and the shuttle began to take flight.

Stumbling forward, Riker grabbed a support to keep his tall lanky body from falling into a young girl, who was playing on the floor with a doll. So this was what it was going to be like to have families on a ship, he thought to himself. Reaching down he picked up the little girl, and locating her father, brought her to him. "Please keep her secured. This isn't a playground." The girl's father complied, but appeared insulted.

Glancing around for a seat himself, he saw the only empty spot was a corner seat that had apparently been avoided because it was just half the width of any other seat. He squeezed into it, next to a rather large elderly woman. The stuffy air inside the shuttle made him completely and instantly annoyed. He attempted to wiggle himself into the wall, to no avail.

He heard a snicker coming from across the aisle and instinctively jerked his head up to see who was laughing. If she hadn't been so gorgeous, he would have been more irritated, because clearly she thought his predicament was hilarious. She was a redhead, which always helped in his opinion. Sitting next to her was a skinny looking teenage boy who looked nervous as hell. Maybe, thought Riker, if he could convince the kid to move, he could get closer to the woman. Riker looked around for someone who might be the boy's mother, but saw no one. Unfortunately, the boy was too big to pick up and move out of the way, as he had done with the little girl.

He cleared his throat. "Hello." He leaned toward the woman with his most ingratiating smile. "I'm Will," he said smoothly. "I don't usually meet such beautiful women on shuttle trips." The teenager next to her made a groaning noise, which Riker ignored. "But then, I'm usually stuck with fellow officers," he added.

"Really," she said with a completely disinterested smile.

Riker flushed slightly at the rejection. "And you are…" he prompted.

"Beverly," she said, beginning to sound amused.

Riker frowned. Why did that sound familiar? Oh shit. "Beverly…Crusher? Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher?"

"That's me," said Crusher, returning to her disinterested expression, and rummaging for an item in her bag, which probably didn't exist. Riker smiled slightly with embarrassment and a touch of admiration. Apparently she had been playing a little game with him.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you would be so…"

"So…what?" She looked up at him with a suddenly deadpan expression.

"Okay, I'm going to try and start over," said Riker with an uncomfortable laugh. "I'm First Officer William Riker, and very pleased to meet you, Doctor." He held his hand out for her to shake, which she did, very firmly.

"Same here, Commander," she said. She gazed at the boy next to her with a small smile. "This is my son, Wesley."

Riker reddened, and now felt very silly. "Nice to meet you, Wesley." The boy appeared to be quite shy, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. "May I call you Wes?"

Wesley suddenly broke out into a big smile. "Yes, Commander, I mean sir." Riker noted there was a perceptive intelligence lurking behind the boy's anxiousness. He was more eager to see the ship, than probably anyone else on the shuttle, and in a sense Riker envied him for that.

Everyone's attention was suddenly caught by the shuttle's approach to the Enterprise. The ship hung majestically in space and to everyone on the shuttle it was a breathtaking moment. Tearing himself away, he glanced at Dr. Crusher, who was straining to look out of the portal and appeared to be as enraptured as anyone else.

"You know, I've heard that Captain Picard can be a bit difficult," he said trying to sound casual. She turned to look at him with a slightly surprised expression. He knew that ship's doctors and captains didn't always get along well, and Riker hoped to gain an ally in Crusher… just in case.

"You don't say," said Crusher sounding a bit shocked. "How so?"

"Well, I don't know if you're familiar with his history…"

"Go on," Crusher prompted almost sweetly.

"Well he's known to be a bit stiff."

Crusher looked surprised, as though she'd never heard such a rumor.

"He's scary," Wesley suddenly blurted out. Crusher glanced at her son and then rolled her eyes. Riker looked at her sharply.

Now it was his turn to be annoyed. He glared at Crusher. "You know him?" Riker cursed himself. How many more missteps could he expect to make before the day was over? And yet, Crusher seemed to be very amused at all of the stupid assumptions he was making. And if she knew Picard, how many more things about Picard's career was he unaware of? He prided himself on knowing his commanding officers inside and out, but here, he decided he might be at a decided disadvantage. And so far, the only thing he could count on Crusher to do was to make him feel foolish. She was going to be an interesting one, no doubt.

Wesley elbowed his mother indiscreetly, obviously looking to her for permission to share. She shrugged, as if to indicate her indifference to the subject matter. But, Riker wondered, if she was a little too indifferent for it to be sincere.

"Captain Picard served with my father. After my father died in an accident, we only saw Captain Picard a few times, and then he disappeared."

"Wes," Crusher said almost reproachfully. "He didn't disappear."

"But Mom, that was what you always said. You said he disappeared from our lives because he was scared and that he was a selfish son of a—." It was Beverly's turn to elbow her son sharply, stopping him in mid-sentence.

Riker's eyes nearly shot out of his skull at this.

"Okay, you know what, let's talk about this some other time. Or never," added Crusher hurriedly, picking up their bags, as the shuttle taxied into the shuttle bay of the Enterprise. Taking a deep breath, as the hatch opened, she reminded herself again all of the positive reasons she had applied for this assignment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Andorian Territory**

Commander Zatha, commanding officer of the_ Ishran _was unhappy about nearly everything. Her grey antennae swiveled in frustration, and her face turned a darker shade of blue. She wasn't normally this way, but certainly under the circumstances, she had reason to be. First, the Andorian colony on Vithra had been almost completely wiped out. Second, the colonists died at the hands of Vulcans. Third, the murderers were still at large. Like every other Andorian, Zatha had an extraordinary sense of justice. She knew, without equivocation or question what was right and what was wrong.

And yet with all of her skill, the skill of her crew, she could not find the killers. And if the killers were found. Well, what then? Zatha did not need to be under orders to know that she was tasked with bringing the Vulcans to justice. And that meant swift death if necessary. According to her superiors, she should expect not only Vulcan involvement but Starfleet as well.

A new ship, Zatha heard, was being sent to intercept her efforts to find the murderous off-worlders. Starfleet involvement was a grave mistake. Why did the humans always take the side of the Vulcans? The Andorians had too earned their place among the founding races of the Federation, and yet, they were treated as unwanted step-children. Zatha would not be afraid, she would be patient, and the answer would come, if the gods would allow.

* * *

"Mother, I haven't even met anyone on this crew yet, and you are already trying to get me to find a husband!"

_"What do you mean you haven't met anyone yet? There are hundreds of prospects for you on a ship that big, Deanna."_

Deanna Troi paced around her new quarters while her mother's image and voice on a nearby monitor promised to drive her insane. "Once again, I just arrived! Besides, my job is to be ship's counselor, Mother. There is a level of professionalism that can't really be maintained if I develop a reputation. I swear sometimes I feel as though you are trying to pimp me out."

"_Deanna, no one says you have to charge anyone. Just get out and meet someone,"_ Lwaxana Troi encouraged her daughter, in her softest tone, which wasn't at all soft.

"I've got to finish getting ready. I'm sure the Captain will want to meet with us soon."

_"Ooh, what about the Captain?"_ said her mother hopefully, _"What's he like?"_

"I don't know. But I can sense he is very unhappy with my being posted to the Enterprise, so I've decided to leave him alone a bit longer before I make my presence known."

"_Oh,"_ sighed Mrs. Troi. "_He sounds just awful. Okay, Little One, run along now. Mother's got business to take care of!_" The screen went black, and suddenly but quite understandably, Deanna felt free.

* * *

When Picard left the turbo lift and stepped onto the bridge, the bridge crew, now at their stations, fell silent. "Captain on the Bridge," shouted Commander Riker, and all crew stood at attention.

Picard walked down the ramp briskly, his eyes meeting some of the officers. Others he appeared to ignore. "As you were," he said loudly, and everyone collectively relaxed to some degree.

Continuing his walk all the way down to the view screen, he suddenly halted. "Activate," he snapped, and the view screen suddenly revealed a beautiful star field. They were traveling toward the Andorian system at full impulse, and the stars seemed to lazily drag by the ship.

He'd just come from Engineering where both his Engineers had continued to debate whether the ship was ready to engage warp drive or not, and whether more controlled tests would be necessary. Why Starfleet had stuck him with two Chief Engineers, he had no concept. One was certainly more than enough. When Picard needed to know how long it would take to have something fixed was he to multiply by two now?

Picard had finally had enough. "You'll get your test in a few minutes," he'd leveled his index finger at MacDougal. "Either we go warp now, or we can forget about reaching our destination in time."

Now on the bridge, he'd almost forgotten why he'd come up here as he gazed out at the stars in front of them. He would always love space, and nothing would ever change him in that way. After gathering his thoughts a few more moments, he turned to face the crew. He looked into each one of their faces one by one as he spoke.

"What you see behind me is more than a destination. It is an _ideal_; one that holds bravery, sacrifice, fairness and peace at its center. We are the new explorers, but we will explore in a way that honors and upholds that ideal. On _my_ ship, everyone will be respected without exception. When I order you to do something, I expect it done diligently, as I had ordered it. I do not allow backbiting, backstabbing, backroom dealing, and anything else that cannot be done in an up-front manner with honesty and forthrightness. If I find that you are not meeting the ideals that Starfleet expects of us, I will let you know, personally. If you are not able to follow these simple rules, you may let me know now, and we will happily drop you at the nearest star base."

He placed his hands behind his back. "Now…does anyone have any questions? Don't be afraid to speak your mind..." He looked around, and there was more than one ashen expression on the bridge, but the crew remained silent. "Good," he said with a broad smile, not returned by anyone on the bridge. "Let's get to it."

"Sir," said Riker, approaching Picard as he walked back to his seat. "At warp 8 we will reach Andor in seventeen hours."

"Seventeen hours, 12 minutes, thirty-two point five seconds, sir," Data corrected from Ops, without turning around in his seat.

"Thank you Commander," snapped Riker. He sat down next to Picard. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Deanna Troi smiling ever so slightly.

Picard remembered what the engineers had told him, and hoped he was making the correct choice. "Very well. Warp eight…engage."

"Aye, sir, warp eight," said Geordi, trying to keep the tremor from his voice as his hands flew over the controls. The view screen immediately turned into brilliant splinters of light, and the ship was suddenly sent forward at mind boggling speeds.

* * *

Picard stood up from his seat. "Counselor, Commander, please see me in my ready room," he said, walking ahead of them. They followed behind him as requested and once inside his office, he sat on the edge of his desk. "Please sit," he said, motioning with his hand.

"I apologize for not formally introducing myself to either of you individually, but as you can see, we are under some time constraints here. I want to talk with both of you for two reasons: one I have a feeling I will be relying on both of you in equal measure as the weeks and months go by, and I want you both to know that I do value your input. In fact, I prefer that if you have an opinion, you offer it." He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his gaze to the ceiling, no longer quite as intimidating as he had been on the bridge. He seemed to search for the correct words. "There is an area here that is…unfamiliar to me, in particular, the fact that there are children aboard, running back and forth and no doubt getting into things they shouldn't be…well, I may need some guidance from you both with those matters," he trailed off and did not seem to notice the corners of Troi's mouth curling into a smile.

Riker suddenly looked worried. Was Picard asking him to babysit? "Oh, sir I'm not sure I'd be much help with all of these kids—"

"And the second thing, Captain," Troi prompted. Riker shot her a warning glance, which she ignored.

"Hmm?" Picard leveled his gaze at her.

"You said there were two reasons you wanted to talk with us, sir," she offered helpfully. His disciplined mind had been tripped up by his own introduction of the subject of children, which she found utterly fascinating from a psychological standpoint. _He wasn't aware that the ship would be inhabited by so many families, and he's not happy about it._

Picard exhaled. "Yes, there was something else." He folded his arms over his chest and pursed his lips, again looking mildly uncomfortable. "I note from your personnel records that you were stationed together for a year on Betazed, is that correct?"

Riker's mouth dropped open. _Oh no._ "Yes, sir that is correct," he said, getting his bearings.

Troi frowned but echoed Will. "Yes, sir."

"While I certainly don't encourage the blurring of command lines, I have no specific rules about personal relationships between my officers, and I see your relationships as your business. However, I do require that you disclose your relationship, that is, if you have one, and then we may move on. Should there be any messy break-up issues in the future, it could affect the command structure," he added, finishing what sounded like a carefully prepared speech.

"Well, I am afraid we've already been there and done that, so to speak, Captain," said Riker, immediately regretting it.

"Pardon?" said Picard with a puzzled frown.

Troi laughed. "He means we've already done the messy break-up thing, Captain. So there is really no need to worry, sir. Commander Riker and I are just friends."

"_Really"_, thought Riker sardonically. But he was careful not to allow surprise leak into his facial expression. "That's right, sir," he agreed, giving Troi a rather sharp look.

"_Oh please,_" thought Troi. "_Don't pretend you were the only one hurt, Will."_ Riker glanced at her again with muted surprise. Apparently they still had the ability to connect to one another's thoughts.

_"Well do you want to talk about it?"_ Will thought.

_"Of course, but not here in front of the Captain."_

_"Agreed."_

Picard, for his part, appeared clueless about their unspoken conversation, but was also clearly relieved. "Very well, then. I appreciate your candor. Dismissed."

Just as they exited, the link beeped.

* * *

"_Sickbay to Captain Picard,"_ came an unknown male voice from the intercom.

"Picard here, go ahead."

"_Sir, Dr. Crusher would like you to come down here as soon as possible."_

Picard wished the young man could have seen his expression. "Who is this?" he demanded sharply.

"_Ensign Revel, sir,_" said the nurse, now clearly shaken.

"Would you kindly tell Dr. Crusher that this is not how communication works aboard a starship, and that if she has something to say to me, she needs to call me herself directly."

_"Yes sir, sorry sir."_ There was a pause and a muffled discussion in the background. Amazingly, just as Picard was about to hit the button to click out, the man's voice came back again.

_"She says she is too busy to talk right now sir, due to main sickbay being in such disarray-"_

"Disarray?" Picard boomed.

_"-but if you would come down here, she will fill you in—"_

Picard cut off the link so that he could curse loudly in the privacy of his ready room. "She's too busy, and yet _she_ called me," he muttered angrily to himself as he headed out the door and toward the turbolift. Tasha Yar could still hear him muttering to himself when the lift doors closed.

* * *

Picard strode in to Sickbay with a purpose, but as soon as he saw her, he completely lost all train of normal thought. She was facing away from him, gesticulating wildly to an orderly about some supply issue. He sincerely hoped she hadn't brought him down here for that reason. He cleared his throat, but somehow his voice sounded too deep when he spoke. "Doctor," he said, by way of greeting.

She spun around, as though she were going to keep yelling, but stopped when she saw him. "Oh," she said, and her mouth moved but no other sound came out. She made the "hold on a minute" signal to her nurse and then turned back to face Picard. She was holding a hypo in her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her blue lab coat. They stared at each other for a few moments more in silence.

"Doctor, welcome aboard," said Picard, suddenly realizing he was openly staring at her. She half smiled at him in that way she'd always had, and he felt some of the tightness in his chest dissipate.

"Hello, Jean-Luc, it's good to be aboard—I mean it's good to see you." she corrected herself, sounding a bit out of sorts. "After all this time, I sometimes wondered if I ever would again."

"Well, you made certain that would happen when you applied to come aboard my ship," he said, and instantly regretted his tone.

Beverly pursed her lips and picked the hypo back out of her pocket. Gesturing at him with it, she said "You know Jean-Luc, you've always had a way with words... except when it comes to me," she added, sounding almost self-satisfied.

Picard flushed with anger and embarrassment. "I apologize for my ill-conceived words Doctor. Now, if you would tell me exactly why you brought me down here, that would be most helpful."

"I was just getting to that," she said.

* * *

**Thanks as always for your continued readership and reviews. Best! -PP**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Security Chief Tasha Yar seated herself in the briefing room as the other bridge officers trickled in one by one as though they were on their way to a party. What was taking these people so long? Captain Picard had called a meeting, but apparently was busy down in Sickbay and he hadn't arrived yet. He had been gone a good half hour already, and Yar wondered briefly if she should go and check on him. It was in Yar's nature to be anxious, particularly about doing her job well, and making sure her fellow officers were safe. Of course, she was sure Picard could take care of his own personal safety on a routine visit to sickbay. No doubt, if anything happened to him, Doctor Crusher would provide him with immediate medical care.

She eyed Deanna Troi as the counselor made her way into the briefing room. Riker followed behind her. Troi and Riker were laughing about something just a few hours after coming aboard, so clearly they knew each other. Yar could not believe she was expected to serve on the bridge with a psychologist, as though having a counselor on board was somehow necessary to running a ship! Even worse, was Troi's propensity for wearing different outfits for different times of day, NONE of which were even Starfleet issue.

Yar noted that Troi had pulled her hair down from that ridiculous bun, and had already changed for the third time since coming aboard. Yar couldn't believe the amount of cleavage that Troi was now displaying. With everyone else wearing standard boring Starfleet uniforms it was downright distracting. She couldn't imagine how the Captain was going to feel, being subjected to the view of Counselor Troi's cleavage day in and day out. Not that she knew what Captain Picard's ideas on cleavage were. It had nothing to do with being prudish, but please; they were on duty. Why should Troi have all of the fun? Yar realized suddenly, that Troi had sat down and was quietly watching Yar with a knowing expression. _"Great,"_ thought Yar. _"My mind is an open book to her._" At that moment, Troi smiled at her as if in confirmation.

* * *

Picard glanced behind Doctor Crusher and saw nothing but empty shelving. As he had feared, she had brought him down here for a damn supply issue. Telling himself to remain calm, he simply waited for her explanation. It was helpful as a distraction from the awkwardness that still hung between them.

"This sickbay is _inexcusably _disorganized and undersupplied, Captain," said Crusher. "Starfleet is sending us into a potentially dangerous situation with minimal medical supplies."

Picard sighed. "Doctor, there is no doubt that our departure was a bit rushed," he admitted. "What is it you need?"

Seemingly from out of nowhere she brought out her data pad and held it out for him to see. The number of items on the list she showed him was too long for him to read. He shook his head, handing it back to her. "I'm sorry doctor, but can't some of this be replicated?"

"Some of it, yes; most of it, no. And since when is it the Chief Medical Officer's job to replicate her own supplies? Now I need these supplies, Captain, or rather, my patients need them." She adjusted her coat and folded her arms over her chest, standing in what he could only interpret as an excessively defiant posture.

Picard glanced behind her again and then looked around a corner. "From the looks of it, Doctor, you don't have any patients, yet."

Her expression now angry, Crusher waved the hypo at him again, and this time he actually wondered if she was considering clonking him on the head with it. To make it more challenging for her, he took a step backward.

"Captain, are you familiar with Andorian physiology?"

Picard frowned. "Well I had an Andorian first officer for a time, but I never learned much about her—"

"Alright, so your answer is 'no'. Captain, none of my hypo sprays will work on any Andorian casualties we encounter. Because Andorians cannot be injected intravenously, I need a special instrument Andorian doctors use, which injects into muscle. Now because of the delicate muscular structure of Andorians we can't use anything we have on board for human use."

Picard was still annoyed, but saw her point. He thought a moment and then walked toward a wall, where he activated a computer panel. Crusher continued to watch him with guarded interest. A star map was pulled up, which she saw Picard study quickly. His finger rested on a tiny dot, which looked like nothing in particular to her eye. He turned and smiled at her and then called the bridge. "Commander Data, what is our estimated time of arrival at Andoria?"

_"Fifteen hours, sixteen minutes-"_

"Thank you, Commander," Picard cut him short. "If we take a short detour through the Nelar system at impulse and then re-engage at warp nine, how long will it take us to arrive at Andoria?"

_"At warp nine from the Nelar system we will reach Andoria in fourteen hours."_

"Very good. When we arrive at the Nelar system, drop out of warp and go to one half impulse. Make it so," he added.

There was a pause. _"Make what so, sir?"_ queried Data.

"_Do_ it," said Picard with contained annoyance.

"Aye sir," said Data, signing off.

Picard turned back to Crusher. "Now Doctor, you shall have your necessary supplies stocked soon enough. I know of a trader in a nearby system, and he always seems to have exactly what anyone needs."

Crusher clasped her hands together. "Wonderful, thank you," she said sounding relieved. "Now I can get back to my other duties."

She turned to walk away, but Picard grasped her forearm. "Not so fast, Doctor, I need you."

She stopped and looked down at his hand on her arm. "You need me?" Her eyes shone with barely contained amusement.

"On the bridge," he said quickly, letting go of her arm. "For a briefing," he added.

"It can't wait?" she said softly, still watching him.

"No," he said, clearing his throat. "The other officers will have assembled by now."

"Alright," she said easily. She hated staff meetings, but she saw no use in protesting, particularly since he had just promised to resolve her supply problem. "Nurse," she called to a young man holding an anti-grav cart. "If Wesley stops by after school, could you let him know I'll see him later for dinner? Thank you." The nurse nodded.

Picard followed Crusher out into the hallway, and then fell into step by her side. "Wesley?" Picard could almost kick himself. It seemed in his anticipation of seeing Beverly Crusher, he had somehow overlooked the fact that she would be bringing her teenage son aboard as well.

"Yes… Wesley," said Beverly looking at Picard, who now looked like he was developing heartburn. "Had you forgotten I have a son?"

"No, of course not," he protested, stepping in to the turbo lift. "No doubt, he has grown into a fine young man," he added.

Crusher and Picard both silently stared up at the ceiling as they ascended. "Halt," Crusher suddenly called out, and the lift slowed to a stop. Picard raised an eyebrow but just looked at her expectantly. "Jean-Luc, I realize this is a lot to take in all at once. It's a lot for me too, you know." He turned to face her and leaned against the wall, careful to keep distance between them. "I just want you to know, I had no idea that Starfleet kept my appointment from you until Walker told me. Given our history, I certainly don't blame you if you feel tricked."

Picard met her eyes for a moment and then looked away. "That is not how I feel, Beverly." The truth was, he could not even articulate how he felt. Not here and not now. "I have no objection with your assignment here. Certainly I would not ask for your transfer because of my own discomfort. This is your career, your life. I respect your choice to be here. Even if…I don't completely understand it, and certainly did not expect it."

Crusher knew he was trying to be considerate, in his own way, but could not let the significance of what he just said pass. "Jean-Luc, are you uncomfortable around me?"

"Um, Beverly, it's not as simple as that…" She gazed at him intently, daring him to speak the truth. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"Why?"

He shook his head in amazement. How could she not know how intensely he had felt for her all those years ago? And still, he couldn't let it go. "I don't think I want to talk about the reasons why," he said.

She sighed. "Well if there is ever a time when you are ready to talk, will you let me know?"

He looked at her squarely. _No._ "Yes," he said aloud. She smiled gently in response.

"But," he began. "There is something I _would_ like to discuss with you now." His serious tone made her smile fade a bit. He breathed deeply. "T'Pel is here," he said. "She is working for the Vulcan government in an effort to aid in the rescue of the Redeemer children."

"T'Pel?" Crusher's face was suddenly a mix of emotions, as long-buried memories began to re-surface. T'Pel had been a good friend to her when she was aboard the Stargazer for the first few months of her pregnancy with Wesley, fifteen years ago. T'Pel had already broken it off with Picard by that time, for reasons unknown to Crusher. During most of the period, Picard had been away on a classified mission, arranged by their friend Walker. No one, except for Walker had known where he had gone, and when he had returned he was nearly unrecognizable.

Later she had learned that Picard had been in Rura Penthe, the notorious Klingon prison. While Picard was away, she had grown close to T'Pel while her relationship with Jack continued to grow strained. Jack had suspected that Picard was in love with his wife, and although Picard had never admitted it, Beverly suspected that what Jack believed might be true. So although Picard's absence was in a way convenient for Beverly and Jack, it also seemed to highlight the fact that Jack and Beverly's relationship was no longer perfect, because even without him there, they struggled to reclaim the closeness they once had. If not for T'Pel, and her support, Beverly would have felt even more alone.

She looked at Picard. "I haven't seen her in ten years. Not since…since Jack died. Where has she been?"

Picard smiled. "I'll let her tell you. She told me she wants to talk with you. She will be at the briefing in a few minutes. So I wanted you to know beforehand. Resume," he said to the turbo lift. He stared at the doors, but could feel her looking at him.

* * *

"We have dropped out of warp and are now in the Nelar system," Data reported as Picard and Crusher walked out onto the bridge.

"Good," said the Captain. "Scan for nearby ships."

Data's hands were a blur over the controls. "Captain, there are three ships in this sector. A Venarian scout ship, a Sarfleet science vessel, and an unmarked cargo ship."

"Lock on to the coordinates of that last ship. Ahead full impulse."

"Yes sir. At the present speed we should rendezvous with that ship in 30 minutes." Data noted that it would be exactly 30 minutes and 32 seconds, but had learned recently that if he attempted to recite the entire accurate time, he would invariably be interrupted.

"Excellent. Data, please join us in the briefing room." Data swiftly got up and followed them, as an ensign moved in to replace him at OPS.

As Picard slid into his chair at the long obsidian table, he hoped for a fruitful meeting. But it did not start that way. Troi, who sat to his right was wearing a casual outfit, from the looks of it, which showcased her figure in a way that was mildly distracting. He hoped she hadn't noticed, that he had noticed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out, Troi was speaking.

"Captain, if I may, I would like to address an issue that has come up." She sounded slightly irritated.

"Go ahead," he allowed.

"It seems that more than a few of you are uncomfortable with the clothes I am wearing, although no one has said so directly. But I have noticed your discomfort, and in an attempt to make everyone feel better, I have changed clothes three times." The officers around the table grew quiet. They had all noticed her revealing outfit, but hadn't said anything out loud. Apparently, they hadn't needed to.

"Why don't you just wear a standard issue uniform?" Suggested Tasha, as though Troi could not have been sillier.

Troi was indignant. "I'll have you know that I come from a culture where the beauty of the physical body is celebrated, not covered up. Where requested I will wear whatever uniform the Captain requires. However, I like the way I dress. So, unless the Captain has any particular objection to my cleavage…"

The room fell silent, and the officers stared at Picard. "I have nothing against your cleavage, Counselor. Or anyone else's for that matter." said Picard. "Now that that matter is settled," he said surveying a table full of shocked and/or amused faces. "Let us move on to the briefing." He touched the intercom. "T'Pel, could you come in please?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Uninhabited Andorian Moon**

Each time the dreadnought ship passed overhead all sound and sense were drowned out. The first few times the children heard the thrumming power of the Andorian ship nearby, they felt the vibration in their ears, and even their insides shook. But later on when the ship returned repeatedly and hovered threateningly above the terrain, although the terror never really dissipated, a strange familiarity began to settle in.

When he was still alive, their leader Ra'Val had shown the children and other adults how to master their emotions, in particular, fear. Now that Ra'Val and the others were dead, only a small group of children remained. Ja'nel and T'Kal would prepare the others and they would sit in a wide circle, hands linked together, eyes shut. They would travel back in time to a place where they were safe, where the winds blowing the sands of their home world and the sounds of insects buzzing, were the only sounds they could hear. One time, Ja'nel felt compelled to open his eyes. Everyone was still, eyes shut in silent meditation; all except for Thar. Thar's eyes were black, wide open and staring into the darkness. His mouth hung open and emitted a strange white light. Frightened, Ja'Nel shut his eyes tightly. After the ship left the moon's surface, they all slept.

The next morning Ja'Nel found Thar working on fixing their vessel. Thar gave him a strange look. Soon they would be able to leave, but Ja'Nel knew they would all perhaps be at greater risk among the stars.

* * *

Beverly glanced at the dark haired woman next to her. This was Counselor Troi, the poor woman who would need to match wits on a daily basis with Jean-Luc Picard. At least, Beverly thought, _I can always hide in my sickbay_. But Troi and Riker in particular had to learn to function as the captain's most trusted inner circle. She felt sympathy for both officers in navigating this new arrangement, because from what she understood of Jean-Luc, he didn't have a trusted inner circle. He had himself.

She found that Deanna Troi was looking at her, and she smiled back. The Betazoid's short speech about freedom of expression on board a starship had been received by the rest of the attendees at the briefing with mixed expressions of amusement and irritation. Beverly found it to be a welcome distraction from the tension she knew they were all feeling. Perhaps that is what the counselor had intended. Tasha Yar was young and wound a little too tightly, but who was Crusher to judge? Everyone here had been selected by Starfleet for certain profession skills and personal attributes, and Beverly was well aware that her own more laid back approach to attending meetings and observing general ship protocols would not have been the best fit for a chief of security.

"We're in need of some medical supplies, and so we'll take a short detour through a nearby system before proceeding to our planned coordinates," Picard was saying. He looked around the table. "This will be our first mission together. As you have no doubt read in the reports I sent you, we have been tasked with finding some Vulcan youths who have been accused of mass murder on an Andorian colony. While it seems unthinkable, we cannot afford to rely on any preconceived notions about Vulcans, or for that matter, children. What has occurred is a most unfortunate loss of life. Our job is to ensure that it does not further escalate into more wide-scale violence."

"Are the Andorians and Vulcans preparing for war, Captain?" Worf asked gruffly.

"As far as the Andorians are concerned, Mr. Worf, the answer appears to be yes." Picard turned to look at T'Pel. "Not that I ask you to speak for all of Vulcan, T'Pel," he suggested quietly. "But unlike the rest of us, you've been in contact with the Vulcan High Command. Perhaps you can shed some light on your role here."

The Vulcan consultant's placid expression seemed nearly immovable. "My role, much like yours, Captain Picard, is to protect Federation interests. At this time, I agree that finding the missing children will serve that end."

Picard's jaw twitched with irritation. She had too easily deflected his attempt to gain clarity about her reasons for coming along on this journey. He forced a smile. "Thank you." He cleared his throat and turned to Riker. "Commander, we'll hear from you now on crew readiness."

* * *

After the briefing, Crusher stopped to speak with T'Pel, and they agreed to talk more later on. No hugs were exchanged, for that was certainly not the way to greet a Vulcan, but there was a respect and a subdued kind of affection that transcended the need for a dramatic reunion. For both of them, the meeting brought back strong memories both good and bad. As she she watched T'Pel walk in to the turbo lift, she recalled the last time she had seen her.

Immediately after Jack had died, his body was brought to the morgue at Starbase 23. Jean -Luc, T'Pel, and two other officers who had survived the incident in which Jack died, had received medical treatment and counseling there. They had all spent about a week on the station, recuperating and trying individually to make sense of what had happened. Beverly had left Wesley, who had only just turned four, with friends while Starfleet Command brought her by ship to the star base. For Beverly she had been hit by a sense of shock followed by deep loss, and then anger that she was somehow being kept from the truth of what had happened.

T'Pel, Beverly remembered, had been unconscious for much of the time, and had been very badly injured. Not only had she sustained a head injury, but she had also lost her left arm. It had been incinerated by whatever energy source had killed Jack. She had sat and talked to T'Pel, who was constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. When she was able to talk T'Pel told Beverly to remember the meditation techniques she had taught her while pregnant with Wesley. "Always remember to breathe through any pain," T'Pel had told her. It was a remarkable thing to hear from someone who must have been suffering immensely herself, and yet Beverly took it to heart, knowing that it was as close to sentiment as a Vulcan would ever show.

Picard had sustained second degree burns covering his back and shoulders. He had said nothing when he first passed her in the hallway on the way to medical that first day. Later that day he had asked to see her, and she'd walked alone down a deserted hallway to his hospital room. He was lying on his stomach on a recovery table, while the skin on his back healed and regenerated. She could see that his ribcage was severely bruised, which caused her to tell the nurse testily to shift him so that he would not develop a blood clot. Because of his position, he could not turn his head to look at her, and stared at the floor while he talked.

His voice was very hoarse, she supposed because of his injury. What she did not know was that he had been crying almost non-stop for two days. Now that Beverly had arrived, his tears seemed to have dried up, as though he no longer had the right to cry for his friend.

_"__Beverly…"_

_She moved her chair closer to his bed, so that she could hear him better. "I'm here, Jean-Luc."  
Picard stammered. "Jack…he's…Jack…."_

_"__Jean-Luc, I know. The admiral told me. I know he's gone." Her eyes began to fill with tears again. There seemed to be no end to them, so she didn't ever try to wipe them away anymore. She just let them fall._

_ "__He shouldn't have been there…" He whispered. "It was an accident. I—" His words were cut off by his involuntary groan. Crusher called the nurse over and told her to administer more pain_ _medication. As the hypo went in,_ _Picard went limp and began to mutter things she could not understand._

_She reached out to touch his arm, but his body jerked violently at the sensation, and she folded her hands back in her lap. "Jean-Luc…I need you to tell me what happened. The report of-of what happened is already classified and no one is saying anything. Please tell_ _me what happened."_

_Picard was now groggy from the medications. "He's dead. It's too late." He closed his eyes and was shaking his head back and forth, as if in silent refusal. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, she resorting to begging him. "Jean-Luc. You're my friend too. I'm still alive and I want to know. Please tell me." He didn't respond, and the next time she spoke her voice was much louder, no longer pleading, but demanding. "Dammit," she said, pounding her fist on her knee. _

_The nurse was suddenly by her side leaning in gently. "Ma'am, I'm afraid he is a bit out of it right now. Tomorrow he will be much better if you want to visit him then."_

_Beverly grabbed her purse and stood up. She didn't know if she wanted to visit him tomorrow or not. Tomorrow they would both be wide awake and facing the harsh truth that Jack was still dead._

* * *

The next day, Jean-Luc was better, at least physically. He was up and around, and she hardly noticed a slight limp when he walked. She had asked him if he would go with her to the morgue to view Jack's body, and of course he had said yes. As they stood side by side staring down at his body, he had said, "He did not suffer, Beverly. It happened so very quickly." She looked at him then and saw for the first time, not a friend, but a starfleet officer, another military face intent on keeping secrets. One thing was clear; he was lying to her. After that, they had uttered only a few words to each other.

On the third day, an investigator came to Star Base 23, and questioned Picard for hours in a room. When she saw him emerge from the room he looked scared and confused; two emotions she had never seen on his face before then. The day after that, the same man returned with a piece of formal paper with a Federation seal on it. It was a summons, which he handed to Picard without a word. The next day, she saw Picard leaving and wearing a dress uniform. Something stopped her from calling out to him, and then he was gone. The next time she had seen him was at the funeral, about a week later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The quick stop for medical supplies had been successful, relatively uneventful, and as Picard had hoped, had not delayed their course. The Captain blinked as he stared at the stars streaking by on the forward viewscreen. His eyelids were beginning to feel like they were being dragged downward, as if to prove a scientific theory that he could not stay awake forever out of sheer will. Why had he decided to avoid sleep? The problem was, his mind was racing, and the newness of being on the bridge of this ship, along with the stresses of the upcoming mission were keeping him almost too alert. He knew that he needed to rest, but was unwilling to take the necessary steps to do so. His gaze shifted tiredly to Data. An officer who could never grow tired. What an interesting concept.

It was 2300 hours and a few hours earlier, the lights on the bridge had begun to dim as the "day" came to a close. It was necessary, Data knew, for human beings to keep as close as possible to the circadian rhythms on Earth during space travel. Artificial light attempted to replicate the properties of natural light as much as possible, and eventually the day turned into night, just as it did on Earth. Without some respect for these natural biological processes humans could become both mentally and physically ill. On previous assignments before the Enterprise, Data had sometimes experienced the phenomenon of "grumpiness" which was often associated with lack of sleep. Data, however, had no physical need for sleep. At times when he was alone, he would slow the pace of his operating systems to properly diagnose them. To a human, these processes would appear too fast to comprehend, but during these periods Data was, in every practical sense, resting.

"Captain, we are approximately six hours away from the Andor system," advised Data. He turned to look at Captain Picard, who, aside from an ensign standing at tactical, was the only one left on the bridge. "If you would like to rest, Captain, I am quite capable of monitoring and maintaining bridge functions while you are sleeping."

Picard yawned. "Very well, Data. Perhaps I could use some sleep." Picard rose up and turned to leave the bridge. He paused at the turbo list. "Please make the appropriate log entries, Commander," he added.

"Yes, sir. Sweet dreams, sir," Data added.

Picard raised an eyebrow at that. "How very odd," he murmured as the turbo lift doors shut with a hiss.

* * *

Geordi LaForge had seen the kid twice since he'd come aboard. The first time, Geordi had seen him peering into Engineering. The boy had seemed about to walk right in, until Chief Argyle had shooed the boy away, not too gently. Now, the teenager was tapping at the computer terminal, and pausing every now and then to glance furtively around him. Geordi had ended his shift for the day and decided to approach him. "Hey kid," he said in a friendly tone. The teen turned around abruptly, and put his hands in his pants' pockets as though he'd been caught doing something more sinister than studying a computer console.

"Hi," said the kid, sheepishly.

"I'm Geordi," said LaForge.

"Wes," said the kid, straightening, and trying to portray an air of confidence. He glanced at Geordi's uniform and smiled. Now that Geordi was standing "You're a command officer," he commented, rather than asked. "Are you coming from the bridge?"

"Yeah," said Geordi. "What were you doing a few minutes ago?" He said nodding toward the wall terminal. His visor indicated Wes' temperature was rising slightly, perhaps from embarrassment.

Wes shrugged. "I was trying to see if the computer system here is comparable to the master computer in Starfleet Medical. That system had some bugs that I was able to fix, and I'm just wondering if I could do the same here."

Geordi's forehead crinkled with amused astonishment. "Well, I'd be really impressed to see what you're capable of, Wes. But I'm not sure the Captain would be too thrilled with you tinkering with the ship's operating systems," he warned.

Wesley put his head down, and scuffed his foot on the carpet, suddenly seeming a bit sullen. "What's he like?"

"Who? The Captain?" Geordi frowned, not sure how honest he should be. "Uh, well, he's…strict…" he trailed off with a shrug. The truth was, he knew almost nothing about Captain Picard, and anyway, he wasn't sure what information the kid was really looking for. "Maybe you should meet him and see for yourself," said Geordi, encouragingly.

"Could you get me on to the bridge?" Wesley said hopefully. "My Mom said it wouldn't be a good idea, but…."

"Wait-your Mom?"

"Dr. Crusher," said Wes.

Geordi frowned. If the Chief Medical Officer didn't think it was a good idea for her son to be on the bridge, how the hell did this kid think Geordi could help him pull it off? He thought for a moment. "Look Wes...why don't you finish your diagnostic of the ship's computer, and if you come up with any suggestions for improving it…"

"You'll get me on to the bridge?"

The teenager's excitement was contagious. Laforge smiled broadly. "Yeah, I'll do my best," he promised, not really sure what he was getting himself into.

* * *

Beverly Crusher sat on the edge of her bed still ruminating about the day's events. Her son had just burst into their quarters brimming with exuberance and had rattled off his assessment of the ship's computer and all of the ways it could be made more efficient. She'd caught only parts of it, then had made him eat some dinner, after finding out he'd gone nearly the whole day without consuming a thing. Wesley was brilliant, and yet she had to remind him to eat some days. It was as though he was so focused on his projects that he forgot about the basic necessities.

After eating a bowl of cereal, he'd double-checked his homework, and then finally had retreated into his bedroom, and now all was quiet. She smiled to herself. It made her heart swell to know that her son so happy to be here. Her smile faded ever so slightly, when she remembered that they'd only just begun this journey. Anything could happen, really.

She knew Wesley was excited to see Captain Picard again, but for various reasons, it just hadn't happened yet. On the one hand, he was not exactly accessible. He was almost always busy with something ship-related, to the extent that it wasn't easy to interrupt him. Everyone had been so busy hurrying to prepare for a mission that was already underway. She certainly was no exception, and her last shift had been a long one.

Just to get it over with, she had considered marching her son right to the Captain's quarters, but thought better of it. Jean-Luc tended to be standoffish at first, and if he felt intruded upon, he tended to become even more remote. She'd been in that position before; not knowing if he was even interested in her company as an acquaintance, much less as a friend; and she wasn't interested repeating the old awkward patterns of the past. She wanted the ability to make a new start on the Enterprise. Certainly, it would be easier if she and Jean-Luc could develop a friendship. She admitted to herself for the first time as she sat in the dark that she desperately wanted her son to know him, and wanted Jean-Luc to benefit from having Wesley in his life.

What she and Jean-Luc had experienced years ago had been a friendship through their connection to her husband Jack, and when Jack had died, the basis of her relationship with Picard had been exposed as extremely fragile. Apparently it had been so very fragile that neither of them had felt the need to cultivate or save the friendship, and they had essentially gone their separate ways following Jack's death.

She had been extremely angry after Jack had died. No one had ever truly explained to Beverly what had caused Jack's death. And of the few officers who had been present when Jack died, Beverly had expected that Jean-Luc would tell her what had happened. She thought this was a reasonable expectation. Surely his own grief would not overshadow his ability to show her basic kindness. But she had been wrong, and he had let her down. Looking back, perhaps she understood, at least partially, why he had been so closed to her then. And yet, he'd said very little, and what he had told her had been of no help to her. Maybe she expected he would be able to say something to protect her from the years of pain that would follow.

She had written to him after Jack's funeral to address some of the things she'd said to him the day of the funeral. She had reached out to him for his friendship, asked him to drop some of the barriers she had never been able to penetrate. To her dismay and confusion, he had failed to respond to her letter. In the years that followed, she had tried not to hold on to her bitterness toward Jean-Luc, but a substantial piece of her truly did feel abandoned.

During the first few years, the more she thought about his absence, the more she cursed her own foolishness, and wondered if it was actually him that she even missed. Did she miss Picard, or was he just a potential surrogate for Jack? Did she somehow wish that he could have been a father to Wesley? The very concept usually made her feel a sense of shame but other times she felt freed by these thoughts. The idea that it was Jack's presence that she missed, rather than Picard, was somehow a comfort to her, but she knew it was more complicated than that.

She had been attracted to Picard from the time they had met, all those years ago. It was an unspoken mutual attraction which they had attempted to conceal from each other and from Jack, with mixed results. So many things became unspoken among the three of them that by the time Jack died, perhaps she should not have been surprised that secrets continued to be kept. But even more than that, she knew that Jean-Luc cared for her. This made it all the more confusing and hurtful when he completely disappeared from her life. More recently, she'd said things in the turbolift that had slipped out; words she already regretted.

Adjusting her nightgown, she lay down and pulled the covers up to her chin in an attempt to bring herself some comfort. She knew that if she was to get any sleep at all, she would need to clear her mind of these troubling thoughts. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_It was the unmistakable smell of burnt flesh. The realization that it was not just T'Pel's flesh, but also his own that was burning, made him nauseous. It did not matter. As soon as he reached the edge of the ancient room and placed T'Pel on the mossy ground, he would turn and the world would slow down as it did every time he relived this event in a dream. He would see his friend slip, the floor beneath him crack, and a glowing orb of energy would lance into Jack, nearly splitting his body in two. Picard would hear himself scream, and he would run, leap, do what he could to reach Jack, but it was never any good. He was never fast enough…never fast enough._

His breathing shallow and ragged, Picard sat up in his bed, a scream ready to emerge as usual, until his body and mind both reconciled with the fact that he was present in the here and now, not ten years ago. A stinging sweat hung on his back where years ago his skin had literally been on fire, and a cold chill weighed down his lungs. He coughed, and grabbed for a glass of water next to his bed. His hand shook as he brought it to his lips, and he silently told his body to calm down as the tepid water slid down his throat.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he breathed deeply and cursed his brain for taking him once again into a place and time where he was powerless. What was the point of reliving such a horrible moment, over and over again? He hadn't had a dream quite so vivid in more than a year it seemed, and he rationalized it was probably due to seeing Beverly and T'Pel again. It was only natural he supposed, that seeing people from his past should resurrect these memories. He glanced at a clock nearby, and noted that the Enterprise was due to arrive in the Andor system within the hour. Even though he was not due on shift for another few hours, he had no intention of going back to sleep at this point. Shrugging off the last traces of the dream, he stood and stretched before heading for the shower.

* * *

Commander William T. Riker stepped onto the bridge just before 0700 hours and was only slightly surprised to see Data sitting in the Captain's chair. The lights had just been adjusted to reflect that it was now morning, but the android, sitting quite still and alone on the bridge, appeared to be a strange pale hued king surveying his neutral-toned domain. "Good morning, Commander," Riker said to Data as he walked down the ramp, hand lightly touching the railing.

He was still growing used to Data's presence, and although others had already begun referring to the android somewhat casually as "Data", Riker felt he needed to afford Data the proper respect by calling him by his rank, until he grew more personally comfortable with serving with him. Riker had no personal reservations about serving with an artificial life form. He'd worked with plenty of computers after all. But Data was not just a computer, he was something much more complicated and Riker bet, more interesting.

"Good morning, Commander Riker," said Data, standing up. "We have entered the Andor system, sir." Data moved aside, to allow Riker to sit, but Riker was suddenly preoccupied with something on the view screen. It appeared tiny, but Riker knew better.

"Magnify," said Riker, and Data walked over to tap his panel at ops. Suddenly the screen showed an image of a grey tube-like ship. And it was doing something ships really should not do—spinning. It soon became clear why the ship was spinning out of control, for at that moment, a shot of green energy ricocheted off the bow of the small cargo ship. A huge battle cruiser loomed just 2000 meters away and was closing in.

"Red alert," shouted Riker. "Captain to the bridge!"

* * *

"Battle stations," Picard shouted, striding onto the bridge. He moved quickly to the command center. "Sickbay, prepare for casualties," he snapped, flipping up the right hand panel on his command chair. He glanced at the view screen and then back at the control panel on the chair's arm. "Distance?"

"One thousand meters and closing, sir," responded LaForge.

"Hail the Andorian ship," ordered Picard.

"The Andorian ship is unresponsive, Captain," said Yar from behind him at tactical.

"Are there any life signs aboard the cargo freighter?" asked Riker, putting a hand on the back of Data's chair.

"Yes, sir," said Data. "Sensors show eight humanoid life forms, sir."

"The children," Troi gasped. Picard glanced at her somewhat alarmed, and not sure if she was guessing or if she knew for certain the Vulcan children were aboard. Troi did not look at him, but her eyes remained wide and staring at the view screen. He resisted the urge to tell her to snap out of it.

"Get me a confirmation on the make of the freighter," Picard demanded.

"Confirming vessel is a Vulcan 1100 class civilian shipping freighter, Captain," said Yar, her voice tense.

That was enough of a confirmation that the Vulcan children were indeed aboard the injured freighter. Picard pushed himself up from his chair and walked toward the view screen. "What is the shield strength on that freighter?"

"Forty percent of what they should be, sir," said Yar, leaning over her station. "And we're talking about a commercial shipping freighter, Captain. No defensive weaponry to speak of."

"That hull won't survive another direct hit," asserted Riker, the anxiety evident in his voice. What the hell was Picard waiting for?

Picard rubbed his chin. He turned to Yar, the question obvious in his expression.

"Still no response to our hails, sir," she said.

He turned back to the view screen. He could feel Commander Riker's eyes glaring into the back of his head. Perhaps Riker thought he would spur Picard into action somehow by staring daggers at him? Well, Picard was unmoved.

Troi watched him closely. He appeared to be calculating important figures in his head.

"The Andorian ship is powering up its weapons, Captain."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Picard folded his hands behind his back. "Shields up. Heading: fifty-three mark two, full impulse." Riker swiveled to look at Picard. That heading would bring them nose to nose with the Andorian vessel. While Riker admired the bold move, he didn't see how it would solve the problem, which was that they had no way yet to rescue the children.

"Andorian weapons are powering back down, sir," Yar announced, as the Enterprise slid smoothly between the Andorian ship and the tiny spinning freighter.

"Good, said Picard," stone-faced. "I suppose we have their attention now, don't we Riker?" he said, without turning to look at his second in command.

"Yes, sir," said Riker, flatly. "Captain, I recommend we drop our shields and try beaming the children aboard now that we're close enough," said Will. "It may be our only chance to save them."

Picard turned and fixed Riker with an icy stare. "I thought we all understood the freighter's shields are currently activated," he said slowly as if he suspected Riker had lost his mind.

Riker felt his face grow hot under Picard's severe gaze. He averted his eyes and nodded stiffly. "Sir," he said simply.

"Sir, the freighter's shields _are_ low," LaForge piped up in an attempt to be helpful. "We could try synchronizing our transport with the ship's shield frequency—" LaForge jumped slightly and stopped talking, as Picard laid a heavy hand on the back of his seat at the helm.

"Lt. LaForge, have you ever seen what transporting through a shield does to a humanoid body?" Somehow the air became even thicker with tension at that moment.

LaForge swallowed, and felt sure everyone heard it. "No, sir," he admitted.

"Well, I have," said Picard. "And Starfleet ordered me to bring these children back safe, not dead," he snapped. Turning back to face the rest of the crew he nodded as if coming to a final decision.

"Prepare for emergency saucer separation in three minutes," the Captain said coolly. Riker's forehead creased in surprise, but he acknowledged the order immediately and stepped to a station along the wall to begin typing in code.

"Commander Data, you will coordinate the evacuation of all civilians from the star drive section, and take command of the saucer section from the main bridge. The rest of you will accompany me on the battle bridge," Picard said to the rest of the bridge crew. "In exactly three minutes," he clarified.

Data stood immediately and moved to a wall station to begin evacuation procedures. The ship's computer voice began a countdown.

"Captain, the Andorians are hailing us, sir," Yar said, a note of relief in her voice.

Riker made a signal to Data to mute the ship's countdown on the bridge.

"On screen," said Picard.

* * *

The bright blue visage of the Andorian commanding officer suddenly filled the screen. Picard's first impression was that she was strikingly beautiful. His second impression was that her grey antennae were gyrating in a highly agitated manner, which was never a good sign for an Andorian. No doubt, if Picard had had antennae himself, they would have been gyrating off the scale as well.

"Captain Picard, of the Starship _Enterprise_," the Andorian said in a deceptively soft voice. "We were told your ship would arrive in our system. I am Commander Zatha of the Battleship_ Ishran_. While I am honored to meet you, Captain, I am not at all pleased to meet you under these circumstances. You are interfering in matters which are none of your concern," she said with a polite coldness typical of Andorians.

"Commander Zatha," said Picard with a slight bow by way of greeting. "The honor is mine. However, I must correct you. The welfare of the children in that vessel is of paramount concern to me and my crew. Please, cease your hostilities against the freighter."

Zatha's expression was unyielding. "Captain, my ship may be large, but its maneuverability is quite impressive. You will not be able to continue to shield the freighter from our weapons systems."

Picard held up his hands as if in an attempt to physically prevent her from carrying out her plans. "Commander Zatha, what are your concerns? I assure you that we can discuss them after we have brought those children safely aboard the _Enterprise_."

"If I have to fire on your ship, Captain, I will."

"Commander, I do believe you would. But you must see that further violence is unnecessary—"

"I will excuse your ignorance, Captain Picard. But these _children _you refer to murdered over one hundred of our colonists."

Picard kept the shock from his expression. "Surely you refer to the adults who are now deceased by all reports."

"Your reports may differ from ours, Captain. And I am not authorized to share my reports with Starfleet. The fact remains, they must pay for their crimes."

"Even if you believe that to be the case," protested Picard. "They should be given a fair trial before they are punished-"

The screen went black as the Andorians abruptly cut the connection. Picard signaled to the crew to proceed to the battle bridge on deck eight. Data moved to the command chair, as auxiliary crew arrived in the turbo lift to replace the main bridge crew.

* * *

Elsewhere on the ship, the majority of civilians and Starfleet officers alike, moved for the most part in an orderly fashion into the saucer section. There was no panic to speak of, and for the most part the civilians seemed to think it was a drill, not a real event.

Wesley Crusher, who was on a field trip in Main Engineering with his advanced propulsion class, paused to watch Lt. Worf direct civilians to the upper levels and into the saucer section. He admired how professional Worf appeared to be, even though he doubted Worf enjoyed any duties involving civilians. Wes had only seen a Klingon individual once before, and they hadn't been a Starfleet officer. Instinctively he ducked out of sight, so that Worf would not see him watching. His mother had told him once that Klingons did not appreciate being stared at. He watched as Worf all but pushed the last few civilians into a utility hatch. Turning to see where his classmates were, he suddenly realized that he was alone. He also realized that the computer had stopped her countdown and all was very silent on the engineering level. He imagined only a small skeleton crew remained.

"Oh great," thought Wesley, not quite concerned yet, but slightly annoyed with himself. He headed for a turbo lift, and thought the best idea at this point would be to get back to his classroom. "Deck 4," he said.

"This turbo lift is unable to travel beyond Deck 8," explained the ship's computer gently.

"Um, why?" Unfortunately for him he knew the answer before the computer told him. The saucer was no longer attached to the saucer section, which meant Deck 8 was now the battle bridge, and essentially the top of the star drive section. He couldn't even get to his mother at this point, since she was most likely in the main sickbay in the saucer section.

"The ship has completed separation procedures, and the turbo lift can only travel to Deck 8," explained the computer, just as gently as before, in answer to his question. It was at that moment that he had another idea.

Before the separation, Picard had taken Data aside and spoken to him quietly. He wanted to make sure Data understood clearly what Picard expected him to do. Data nodded, and waited as Picard and the other officers stepped off of the bridge before sitting down. As Captain Picard had instructed, Data would wait until the appropriate time to act.

The Enterprise battle bridge was more familiar to Picard than the main bridge, even though he'd never set foot on it until now. The dark and dingy ambience reminded him of just about every other ship he had served on, in contrast to the bright, sleek lines of the rest of the Enterprise. Riker looked at him as if to say "now what?" Picard knew the lack of patience Riker displayed was simply his concern for the success of their mission, but it still annoyed him at that moment.

Yar suddenly shouted, "Andorian ship is moving out of range, sir. It is positioning itself to fire again on the freighter."

"Pursue them," ordered Picard. "Keep us between that battle cruiser and the freighter at all costs."

"Aye sir," said LaForge. Sweat stood out on the young man's brow, as he maneuvered the ship as directed.

"We're taking fire," said Yar in a tone of voice that indicated she would very much like to fire back.

"Evasive maneuvers, but keep us in front of the freighter," ordered Riker. Riker looked at Picard. "Sir, our shields won't be able to hold on forever," he warned.

"Now, Data," said Picard opening a channel to the saucer section. The saucer section suddenly moved into position behind the freighter and a cool blue beam was issued from the saucer section, attaching itself to the small freighter. The tractor beam brought the Vulcan freighter as close to the Enterprise hull as possible, making it difficult to see. The saucer section shot away at full impulse bringing it outside of the Andorian weapon range.

"Andorians are firing directly on us, Captain," said Yar. "Andorians firing photon torpedoes."

"Fire countermeasures," barked Picard. The ship shook with a near hit, and he staggered slightly, and gripped a rail. Feeling somewhat certain that the saucer section and the freighter were now a safe distance away, he felt more inclined to disable the Andorian ship, if necessary.

"Shields at sixty percent, Captain," reported Yar. "They're continuing fire, sir," she added almost immediately.

"Fire at will," he ordered.

Amidst the jarring sensation of the battle and the shouts of the officers around him, Picard did not hear the swish of the turbo lift doors behind him.

Riker did notice the visitor, however. "Mr. Crusher…what the hell are you doing—"

* * *

Picard's head snapped around at the sound of Riker's shouting. There, looking both frightened and elated at the same time, if such a thing were even possible, was Wesley Crusher. Picard recognized the boy immediately. Not by what he had looked like ten years ago, but by the resemblance he bore now to both Jack and Beverly.

At that moment, a torpedo hit, and a secondary explosion rocked the bridge. Smoke poured from the wall behind Lt. Yar, who predictably did not move from her post. Two ensigns rushed to put the fire out, and quickly subdued it, but smoke continued to billow forth and fill the air on the bridge with an acrid stench.

"Wesley?" Picard ran to grab the stunned teenager by the shoulders, and guided him back down to the command center. He sat Wesley down in his command chair. "Now stay here and don't move," he said gruffly, still crouching. The boy looked at him with large eyes that seemed to convey both fear and fascination. If the boy's eyes seemed to be on the verge of tears, Picard reasoned it was likely the smoke and nothing more than that. Turning away to face the view screen, he kept his right hand firmly on Wesley's shoulder.

"Captain, they're leaving," exclaimed Geordi. Sure enough, the Andorian ship had turned and was slowly retreating. He turned and glanced quickly at Wesley Crusher. A small part of Geordi wanted to applaud the kid for his ingenuity in getting to the bridge, but he decided it would be better for his career, and possibly his personal safety, to return his attention to the helm.

Data's serene voice came through the communications link. "Captain Picard, I am pleased to report that the Vulcan children have been beamed aboard. We were able to deactivate the shield generator on the freighter, once we had control of the vessel. Doctor Crusher is currently administering to the children's medical needs. She reports that the children are malnourished, and some bear wounds, but she is hopeful about their prognosis, sir."

Picard nodded to no one in particular. "Thank you and well done, Data." Picard continued to watch the Andorian ship retreat, and felt very sure that Starfleet Command would not appreciate his choice of weapons over diplomacy. The children were physically safe for the moment, but at what cost to the greater peace?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"I need more clotting agent," shouted Beverly Crusher to a nearby nurse. The nurse spun around and grabbed the hypo spray the Doctor had requested. Dr. Crusher pressed a piece of gauze against a little boy's forehead with one hand and grabbed the hypo from the passing nurse with the other. The gauze quickly filled with dark green blood. The boy had sustained a head wound during the Andorian attack, and he was losing blood faster than he should be. But Crusher knew that the low gravity of the freighter combined with the quick change in pressure after beaming aboard the _Enterprise_ was to blame for that. Soon enough she brought the swelling and bleeding under control.

She touched the boy's hand lightly, and was struck by the amount of heat he was projecting. Vulcans had higher average body temperatures than humans, a simple fact she reminded herself. She sat next to him and took in his fine features. He appeared to be a boy of about ten earth years. The boy remained silent, as she washed his face gently with a cool damp cloth. He was a Vulcan, surely, but, she still hardly expected a child to be so stoic in the face of such frightening events. He's probably in shock, she thought to herself. "It's going to be alright," she said softly to him and stroked his arm. "What is your name?" she asked, trying to get him to make eye contact.

"Thar," he said. She blinked, for his voice held more confidence than most adult men she had encountered. "I am the mechanic," he said, simply stating a fact.

Crusher began to feel strangely unsettled as he looked directly into his opaque eyes, which suddenly seemed to be endless in their depth. She motioned for a nurse to come and take over. "This patient is stabilized," she said. Touching the boy's shoulder again lightly, she turned away to turn her attention to treating the other children.

Crusher and her staff continued to busy themselves with stabilizing the other children, and within the hour she was satisfied that all eight were going to survive. Remarkably these children had survived an apparent massacre, had escaped in a freighter to a stark moon, and had taken flight again only to be overtaken by an enormous battle cruiser which had fired on them again and again. It was amazing they had made it out alive with relatively minor bruises and lacerations.

* * *

"If the Enterprise had not intervened, these children would have died." Crusher spun around to find Counselor Troi standing behind her. In a way Troi had finished her own thoughts, but then, perhaps Troi already knew that.

Beverly smiled wanly. "Yes," she agreed. "It seems we were in the right place at the right time."

"The Captain made a quick decision. And it was the right one," said Troi, stepping closer to Beverly.

"Yes, well, he certainly knows what he's doing," said Crusher, dismantling some hypo sprays and packing them away in a case. She wiped the damp hair out of her eyes in irritation.

"I think that was made abundantly clear to everyone on this ship today," said Troi. "He has an unusual ability to exude confidence in the face of very difficult odds," she added.

Crusher thought of a few things to say in response, but instead just nodded her agreement and continued cleaning up the triage area. She knew what the Counselor was doing, and she wasn't interested in playing along. It was an old counseling trick, to check in with the crew and see how they were responding in the wake of a traumatic event. Crusher, being a doctor, was used to handling trauma, so she hoped the counselor would move along to the next ornery crewmember and stop bothering her.

She glanced back at Troi long enough to see that the counselor had an amused expression fixed upon her face. In spite of herself, Crusher smiled back at Troi, and was about to give in and crack a joke, when she suddenly was distracted by footsteps entering her sickbay. They both turned at the sound.

* * *

"Wesley! What on Earth -?" There stood her son, accompanied by Captain Picard. Both seemed to be unharmed, but both were covered in a layer of black and grey soot. The smell of smoke and a small cloud of dust followed behind them.

Picard had a hand on Wesley's back and gave him a light shove towards Crusher. "Doctor, may I present your son," said Picard in a voice that was less than pleased. Wesley coughed by way of greeting. "I happened to notice him sneaking onto my bridge in the middle of a battle…"

"Was there a fire? Are you hurt?" The question was actually for both of them but both Jean-Luc and Wesley stared back at her as though she were speaking another language. Sighing, Beverly grabbed Wesley and sat him down on a bio bed. While she ran a scanner over her son, she talked to Picard. "Are you injured, Captain?"

"No, of course not," he snapped. "I merely wanted to inform you that your son—"

"My s_on_ only wanted to meet you Captain," she snapped back. "It has been ten years after all," she added pointedly.

"Touché," thought Picard. He looked down at his feet and then back up at her again, hands draped behind his back. "Of course, you are right, Doctor," he said aloud. "Young men sometimes make irrational decisions. I'm sure it won't happen again, will it Mr. Crusher?"

"No, sir," Wesley said weakly. Crusher squeezed his hand, but he appeared terrified of the Captain. Beverly resisted the urge to fold her son into her arms and protect him, but she knew he was already mortified. And the truth was, he was growing up, and would have to learn to talk to Jean-Luc on a regular basis without curling into a terrified ball.

Wesley was mainly embarrassed to be seen holding his mother's hand, and he jerked his hand away from hers self-consciously. "Mom, I'm okay," he protested. This was not the way Wesley had wanted to meet Captain Picard. He would have rather impressed the Captain with his knowledge of warp technology or have been of some other use to the Captain, instead of making problems.

He took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Sir, I am very sorry. It won't happen again," he assured the Captain, doing his best to maintain eye contact.

Picard stared at Wesley for a few more moments. Clearly the boy understood he should not have just appeared on the bridge. Picard felt a pang of regret as he looked at this skinny teenage version of Jack, standing nearly at attention, clearly in an effort to apologize. Picard cursed himself silently. He didn't intend to inspire apprehension in his new crew; surely least of all in this bright young man, to whom he was connected by the most tragic event of both their lives.

Picard held out his hand to Wesley. "Wesley, I accept your apology," he said as gently as he could manage. Wesley grasped his hand and shook it, with a look of plain relief. "Once we've finished our mission in this sector and are out of danger, I will arrange for you to come and see the bridge for a proper tour. How does that sound?"

"Great! I mean, I would be honored to see the bridge, Captain," he corrected himself.

Picard glanced at Beverly. "What a polite son you have raised, Doctor," he remarked with a small smile. He half expected a sarcastic retort from her, but instead she flushed and a very sincere expression of pride crossed her face. He held her gaze for a moment longer than was necessary.

Wesley looked at his mother and then back at the Captain, and for some reason at that moment it hit him that he was seeing them together for the first time since the day of his father's funeral. He recalled staring out the window long after Picard had walked away and disappeared into the fog, it seemed. He had been so young, and yet sometimes it seemed like his father had just died. Other times he had to look at a holo image of his father just to remember what he looked like. Seeing his mother with Captain Picard now made him feel very strange as if he was missing something—something they didn't necessarily want him to know about. The more he thought about it, the more he began to feel embarrassed.

"Um, Mom, since I already missed the rest of school, is it okay if I just go back to our quarters?"

Crusher looked at him. "Of course," she said. "I'll see you later, and we can talk then about your little excursion on the bridge…alright?"

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed, and turned to leave. "Goodbye, Captain," he said on his way out the door.

"Wesley," said Picard with a curt nod.

* * *

"How are they?" Picard asked Counselor Troi quietly.

"Doctor Crusher tells me they are resting for the moment Captain," said Troi. She hesitated before uttering her next words. "Captain...that was an important moment for Wesley Crusher. You handled it well."

His expression was priceless. Luckily for her, they were interrupted.

"Captain, I wish to speak to the Redeemer children now."

Picard turned at the sound of T'Pel's serene, yet assertive voice. He had been in Sickbay talking with Troi in hushed tones about the recently rescued children. Doctor Crusher had disappeared into her office to finish writing her reports. Troi indicated that she had spoken already with two children whom she referred to as "the leaders". They were each approximately twelve earth years old, named T'Kal and Ja'Nel, one female and one male respectively. They, according to Troi, were incredibly strong mentally and she had trouble discerning some thoughts they kept hidden. One thing was certain, she had told him: they were keeping a mutual secret, one they considered vital to their very survival.

He nodded at T'Pel. "Understood," he said. "I was about to speak with them myself." He paused and looked at her more closely. "You weren't injured during the Andorian attack, were you?"

T'Pel shook her head. "No, Captain, I am quite well."

"Good. Counselor, do you have any suggestions for me before I speak to these children?"

Troi smiled with understanding. Picard's discomfort at the prospect of speaking to children about anything, much less about difficult subjects, was obvious. "As long as you remember that first and foremost they are children, Captain, you will be fine. They have been through several traumatic incidents and have literally faced and avoided death at least twice. Given their ages and the circumstances, we cannot expect them to tell us everything we need to know."

"Thank you, Counselor," said Picard. He nodded to T'Pel and they left her side.

* * *

"Hold please," called out Riker, as he saw Data step efficiently into a turbo lift. Data's head peeked around the door of the lift, and the door halted and then re-opened fully. Riker quickly ducked in and then leaned his large frame against the wall. "Mr. Data, that was some impressive work you did today with the saucer," he offered.

Data's lips thinned to a flat line and his head tilted as if he were listening carefully for something only he could perceive. "Thank you, Commander Riker. I found the entire event quite stimulating."

Riker broke into a slow grin. "Stimulating? What an interesting choice of words, Mr. Data. Care to elaborate?"

Data paused. Typically humans did not ask him to elaborate. Instead, they often specifically asked him to "keep it short", or to "spare us the details", or even to "wrap it up, please". Data was therefore pleased at the invitation to furnish a complete explanation.

"During our encounter with the Andorians I observed that many of the Captain's tactics, including the separation of the saucer section seemed to be based on intangible factors. It is difficult for me to comprehend how Captain Picard knew that he would need to separate the saucer section prior to speaking with the Andorian Commander."

"He anticipated, Commander," said Riker. "He knew the Andorians have a reputation for adherence to duty, and that they also have a strong sense of justice. In this situation, they believed that exacting justice required the destruction of the Vulcan vessel. So the Captain knew he would have to try to reason with them, but that talking was not likely to dissuade them from attacking the Vulcan ship. He also knew that unless the Enterprise was separated, the civilians on board would be at risk, and that two ships instead of one would provide a greater distraction for the Andorians. Once you picked up the freighter with the saucer and moved out of harm's way, all we had to do was discourage the Andorians from pursuing you. What you witnessed was experience and instinct coming together."

"Fascinating," said Data.

Riker nodded and ran a hand through his hair. The grey smoky residue left on his palm confirmed that he could use a hot shower. He sighed, suddenly recognizing his own exhaustion. "I'm just glad we pulled it off."

* * *

Picard had crouched down next to the boy so as to appear less imposing. Ja'Nel, as Troi had promised, was very strong willed. He refused to answer even the simplest questions about the original trip from Vulcan. He also refused to tell Picard what had happened down on the surface of the Andorian colony. When asked about the adult Vulcans, and whether they had in fact perished, Ja'Nel remained silent.

T'Pel had a similar lack of success with T'Kal, the girl, who exhibited even more self-control than Ja'Nel. One thing that T'Pel was able to learn was that the two were siblings. "Where are your parents?" T'Kal remained silent. "Where is your leader, Ra'Val?" Nothing. "Is Ra"Val dead? Did he murder those Andorians? Did you murder the Andorians? Why did you leave Vulcan?" T'Kal remained silent throughout the session.

After many unanswered questions, T'Pel looked at Captain Picard. Her expression mirrored his own fear that if they persisted with these kinds of questions they might fail to learn anything at all.

* * *

"Doctor, may I speak with you?"

Crusher looked up as the sound of Troi's pleasant voice drifted into her office. It was hard to ignore Counselor Troi. She was someone most people would want to talk to, and Crusher wondered momentarily if this kind of approachability was a natural aspect of Troi's personality or simply a manifestation of her role as ship's counselor. Either way, Crusher had a feeling that if Troi wanted to know something about her, she could use her empathic powers to find out. And yet, Troi always asked how you were feeling. Clearly she would rather someone volunteer sensitive information, than have to use her powers to take it. As someone who was usually opposed to revealing her personal feelings, Crusher appreciated this.

"Yes," said Crusher. "Come in, I'm just finishing my reports on the Redeemer children."

Troi came in and sat down across from the Doctor. To her surprise, Crusher actually put her work aside and turned her attention to Deanna. Having sensed Crusher's irritation with Deanna's comments earlier, she was surprise the Doctor was now a bit more open to her.

"It's about Wesley," said Deanna.

"Oh?" Crusher's voice and expression remained even, but an invisible wall went up between them.

"And Captain Picard," Deanna added. Another wall. Troi's recent insight into Crusher's feelings abruptly changed and grew murky.

Crusher clasped her hands together and sat back in her chair. "What about him?"

"I sensed a number of complex emotions among the three of you this afternoon in Sickbay. In particular, it is clear that Wesley is extremely intimidated by Captain Picard."

Crusher made a face. "Troi, I have known Captain Picard for a long time now. Most of the time he can be an intimidating figure."

"Does he intimidate you?" Deanna asked evenly.

Crusher's expression was unforgettable. "I thought we were talking about my son," she snapped. "And the answer is no, by the way," she added caustically.

Deanna smiled kindly. "I see," she said. "I also sense that Wesley has a great…longing for Captain Picard's approval. But even more than that, he would like his affection."

Crusher stood up and adjusted the files on her desk. "It's only natural, I suppose," Beverly said. "His father –my husband Jack, died years ago. Maybe Wes is looking for a father figure to emulate."

Deanna looked at her squarely. "Beverly: is that what Wesley wants, or is that what you want for him?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"I know you of all people don't need to be reminded of the importance of taking great care with our actions when dealing with this very delicate matter, Captain Picard." Admiral Imhoff's furrowed brow glowered at Jean-Luc Picard from the personal view screen in his ready room.

"And yet you feel the need to remind me anyway," thought Picard with some irritation. "No, Admiral, of course not," he said aloud.

"The Andorians are putting up quite the fuss right now at the office of the Federation President in Paris right now, Jean-Luc. That little skirmish the_ Enterprise _was involved in yesterday has become the talk at Headquarters as well," said Imhoff. Picard remained silent as the Admiral continued. "There are potential political ramifications of this incident, which it seems you did not fully consider when you fired on the Andorian ship yesterday, Captain."

Picard bristled at this, but kept his expression neutral. "The Andorians fired on the Enterprise first, Admiral. I assure you that I would not have issued the order to fire had it not been necessary. The Vulcan children we were ordered to protect were at grave risk, sir," he added.

The Admiral nodded. "I understand that, Captain, but there is more at stake here than the lives of a few children from some Vulcan cult. The Andorian Federation Cabinet members are demanding retribution for the crimes committed against their colonists, which they claim were perpetrated by these children or their cult leaders. The Vulcan delegates deny that the killings were in any way sanctioned by the Vulcan Council, and have so far refused to make any kind of overtures to the Andorian government."

"No doubt, infuriating the Andorians further," said Picard, beginning to feel quite infuriated himself. "What are my orders, Admiral?"

"You must do your damnedest to avoid war, Captain. War between the Andorians and the Vulcans would threaten the very fabric of the Federation. Right now, the Andorians see the Enterprise as sympathetic to the Vulcan cause and not their own. Your actions yesterday only served to cement this view."

"I understand, Admiral," said Picard, not at all happy about being reprimanded.

Imhoff's eyes narrowed. He knew Picard was attempting to give him the brush off, and he wasn't having it. "One more thing, Captain. There are a few higher ups who are now quietly reconsidering their decision to place you in command of the _Enterprise_." The Admiral paused to let the weight of his words hit home. Picard's expression remained hard, but he said nothing. "This is the new flag ship, Jean-Luc, and they don't want their most prized toy played with too roughly. When you were up for this post, there were some who questioned whether you were ready to come back to commanding a starship of this caliber. The name _Enterprise_ carries additional responsibility."

"I am aware of that, sir," said Picard, now struggling to keep his voice calm.

Admiral Imhoff continued almost gleefully. "Quite frankly, some were afraid you had lost your mind when you took the posting to the _Sentinel_ after the _Stargazer_ was lost. The fact that you would command anything less than a starship was unthinkable to many in Starfleet, including me, to be honest. And then when you stayed out there on the far rim for so long...well, let's just say you might want to operate on the assumption that you are still on probation Captain."

Picard's face grew dark with anger. "Probation?"

Imhoff shrugged slightly. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I _expect _you to use your notable diplomatic skills in order to complete this mission, Captain. The new Starfleet needs Captains who have abilities extending beyond the battlefield. Imhoff out."

As the screen went to black, Picard sat back in his chair and interlaced his hands behind his head. "'New Starfleet'," he muttered. He needed a drink. "Tea," he snapped to the computer.

"Please specify type," intoned the computer.

"Earl Grey," he said, palming his forehead in general frustration.

"Please specify temperature."

"_Hot_, dammit!" Mercifully, the computer finally generated the requested beverage and it swirled into existence before his very eyes.

* * *

A few minutes later, Captain Picard sipped his tea; more or less recovered from the dressing down he had received from Admiral Imhoff. Across from him sat First Officer William Riker, who among other things was more of a coffee person.

"He actually criticized you for saving lives of those children?" Riker was incredulous. He shook his head. "Captain, you only did what was necessary."

Picard nodded with a small smile. "I appreciate your support, Commander, I do. However, we have got more important things to concern ourselves with than my bruised ego." Riker smiled.

"I would like to arrange a meeting with Commander Zatha of the Andorian ship we encountered yesterday. I am hoping that she can be reasoned with. If so, she may be able to help calm the political rhetoric down a bit before her planet starts a war. I think we shall meet aboard the Enterprise, if she is willing, of course."

Riker nodded his agreement, but was skeptical. "She might not have the freedom to choose a more reasonable course, Captain. Like us, she no doubt has to deal with bureaucratic directives."

Picard fiddled with his nearly empty tea cup. "You may be right, but I hope not. In my experience, Andorians respect honesty and reason. If she disagrees with the course her government is taking, my hope is that she will make her voice heard."

"I agree, it's worth a try, sir." Riker sat still, wondering if the meeting was now over. It was a nice gesture to ask his opinion, but it was clear the Captain had already made up his mind about his course of action. Riker's mind brought him back to his embarrassing encounter on the bridge with Picard during the Andorian incident. He hoped that Picard would eventually view him as an officer he could rely on, instead of an inexperienced subordinate. Riker knew he would need to do some serious ego-checking of his own, if he was to do well on this ship. He glanced up as Picard stood and began to pace around his desk.

"The other reason I asked you in here, is I would like you to lead an away team to the Andorian colony that was allegedly attacked by the Redeemers. Gather any evidence you can to help us piece together what might have happened down there. So far, T'Pel and I have been unable to find out anything from those children."

Riker perked up. "Aye sir. Will the Andorians allow us access?"

"Let me handle that part of it," said Picard. "That will give you enough time to prepare your team."Dismissed."

* * *

"I regret what happened yesterday, Commander Zatha. Even more than that, I regret that we are all here, in this unfortunate situation," said Picard.

The Andorian captain looked at him rather harshly from his computer console. "And I regret, Captain that you continue to be unwilling to hand over the murderers of my people."

"Commander, so far I have no evidence that these children murdered anyone. If I had some evidence to support your claims, perhaps I would understand better your need to have them."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Zatha suspiciously.

"Let my people beam down to the surface of the colony. Let us conduct our own investigation. Once we've done so, perhaps we will better understand each other's positions."

Zatha laughed. "Picard, even if I were to obtain permission for you to beam to the colony, what would that gain me? You do not even have the authority to deliver the Vulcans to me even if you are somehow convinced of the Vulcans' guilt."

"You're right, Commander. I do not have the authority to give you the children, and you do not have the authority to let me leave this sector as long as I have the children. It appears we are stuck with each other, in which case where is the harm in allowing me to investigate your claims? Clearly my ship is not going anywhere."

Zatha's thin lips curled into a slow smile. "Very well, Captain. I will report to you in one hour, as to whether we will allow you to beam to the colony. Zatha out."

* * *

"That was a close one yesterday," said Geordi, referring to the battle with the Andorian ship. He sat with his back to a view port in the Ten Forward lounge. The place was definitely a step up from the mess hall on the _Hood_. As he regarded his seating partner, he also noted that the company was an improvement as well. He slowly sipped his drink.

Tasha Yar shrugged. "I guess," she agreed, swirling her own drink around in its glass.

Geordi laughed. "What? You've seen closer?"

Yar remained serious. "There isn't a lot I haven't seen," she said.

Geordi put down his drink, intrigued. "Really?" She seemed to be the same age as him. It was hard to believe she had seen everything the universe had to offer already.

She fixed him with a look that indicated she didn't enjoy repeating herself. Geordi's visor registered a wave of something he recognized as irritation cross her face. It was not the emotion he was trying to inspire.

"Trust me, you don't want to know what I mean," she said somewhat cryptically and continued to fiddle with her glass. Yar wasn't interested in recounting her life's story, but she also didn't want people she just met to assume she was naïve. Yar had grown up hard, to put it mildly, and she was forever trying to overcome the horrible sights she had seen and the horrible things she had personally experienced growing up in a grimy, poverty-stricken human colony. The depths of depravity that she had seen people sink to, mixed with those brief moments of extreme kindness she had observed, did little to prepare her for a life in Starfleet in which she was expected to "get along" and cooperate.

But despite what she viewed as her own weaknesses when it came to her personal relationships, she had excelled and risen through the ranks mainly due to her hard work and more than a little bravado. Judging by LaForge's happy-go-lucky demeanor, he wouldn't understand even if she wanted to open up to him. Good thing she had no intention of opening up to him, or anyone, unless it was on her own terms. But, she admitted to herself, she liked LaForge's sincere friendliness. It was endearing, and the main reason she had agreed to have drinks with him, and probably the only reason she hadn't walked away...yet.

LaForge now found himself completely at a loss, which was typical when he was talking one on one with a woman that he was attracted to. Were personal subjects off limits then? Honestly, he had no idea. But he tried again. "Well…what do you like to do for fun? You know… hobbies?" He took another sip of his drink, in an attempt at nonchalance.

"You mean when I'm not on duty? I don't know," Yar shrugged. "I suppose I like to exercise…and have sex," she added casually.

Geordi tried not to spit out his drink, which resulted in choking it back. The drink had been too strong for him to begin with, and now his poor eyes were watering. He wiped underneath his visor self-consciously.

"What's the matter? You don't like sex?"

Geordi tapped his chest and exhaled. "Sure I do," he said hoarsely. "I've just never had it regularly enough to describe it as a hobby." Yar gave him a sly smile and then looked up distractedly. Geordi followed her eyes and saw that Lt. Commander Data was approaching.

Data stopped at their table somewhat stiffly. "May I join you?" he asked, looking from Yar to Laforge.

"Uh…."Geordi did not know whether to tell him to go away, or hold onto him for dear life and beg him not to leave. Tasha made the decision for him.

"Sure, have a seat," she offered. She stood up. "I actually have to go on shift soon, so you'll have to excuse me." She turned away and then back to look at LaForge. "Oh and Geordi, if you are free sometime soon, let me know if you are interested in learning some new hobbies."

Geordi and Data both watched her walk away. Geordi exhaled loudly and then looked at Data. "That was completely surreal," he said under his breath.

Data tilted his head. "Surreal: fantastic, unbelievable, an irrational reality…surrealism; a philosophical and artistic movement originating on 1920's Earth…" he trailed off, because Lt. LaForge had suddenly buried his head in his hands in an unusual manner. Data leaned forward over the table and attempted to peer into the young man's face in order to discern whether he was ill.

Geordi looked up quickly to find his android commanding officer staring into his face from about three inches away. "Whoa," he said, sitting back awkwardly. He sighed. "Sorry sir; just didn't expect you to be right there."

"What is it that you were doing with your hands a few moments ago?" Data moved his hands up and down mechanically near his face in an effort to recreate what he had observed. "You appeared to be hiding, Lt. LaForge. But, from what?"

Geordi blushed. "I was just… embarrassed, that's all. Story of my life," he murmured.

Data frowned. "The story of your life is one of embarrassment," said Data as if in confirmation. "How intriguing." Data sat forward with interest. He was hopeful that one day he too would be able to tell someone the story of his life, and if possible, to sum it up in one sentence, as Lt. LaForge had done.

* * *

"So, how did you manage it?" Doctor Crusher was still pulling on her blue lab coat, when she fell into stride with the Captain. She was on her way to meet Riker, T'Pel, Yar, LaForge and Worf in the transporter room, and Picard was going presumably to see them off. Several hours ago, the Andorian ship the _Ishran _had rendezvoused with the Enterprise and escorted the ship to the colony on an Andorian moon. There, Riker had informed them, they would investigate the deaths of the colonists.

"Manage what?" said Picard, taking her med kit for her, while she pulled on her coat. She smiled a thank you to him when he handed it back.

"To convince the captain of the ship you fired on yesterday to do you a favor," remarked Crusher.

Picard smiled. "Perhaps Commander Zatha and I are cut from the same cloth. Sometimes ship's captains have an understanding, even when they are supposed to be enemies."

Crusher looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "What about ship's captains and ship's doctors? Can they develop an understanding?"

Picard laughed. "I've heard about such things, but I'd always thought the idea somewhat mythical." They fell silent, as they neared the transporter room.

She turned to him and they halted at the entrance. "I wanted to thank you for the way you spoke to my son yesterday. I talked to him later in the evening, and it actually meant the world to him that you shook his hand."

Picard nodded. "That's good to hear. I am just glad that he wasn't harmed yesterday. Beverly, if anything had happened to him—"

Crusher reached out and touched his arm. "Jean-Luc, it's alright. I know he was in good hands. In fact, I think we all are."

"Beverly," he said, as she turned to walk away. She stopped and looked at him. "Be safe down there." She nodded with a confident smile and disappeared into the transporter room.

* * *

Deanna Troi looked up at the sound of her door chime. She wasn't expecting anyone. "Yes? Come in please," she called out. To her surprise, it was Captain Picard. And he looked fairly uncomfortable. She stood up as he walked in to her office. He glanced around and appeared to approve of the space. He traced his hand along her desk absently.

"Hello, Counselor," he said, walking to a couch where she held her one on one sessions. "May I?" he said gesturing to the couch.

"Please," she said, gesturing for him to sit down. She sat down across from him, and leaned forward with her hands on her knees. He shifted in his seat and laced his fingers together. "What can I do for you, Captain?" she asked.

"I need your assistance, Counselor," he said, as though needing her assistance was really the last thing he had ever wanted.

Deanna looked into his eyes with compassion. "Captain, I appreciate that you came here to talk with me. I know that it is difficult for you to ask for assistance."

"It's about the children," said Picard. "I have been completely unable to get them to answer my questions. Even T'Pel hasn't been able to break through to them, and she is a powerful telepath and, of course she is Vulcan." He paused and looked down at his hands. "I am not sure what I am doing wrong," he admitted.

Troi smiled. "Perhaps it is not about doing anything right or wrong Captain. Maybe instead it is about the emotional and physical ordeal these children have been through. They don't want you to reach them, so the fact that you are unable to is not surprising."

"Counselor, you said yourself they appear to be keeping some sort of secret."

Troi sighed. "Yes…but there is something more. I am concerned that the children appear to be under some kind of outside influence, although I cannot be sure, Captain. Something or someone is preventing them from telling us what happened to them."

"Would you be willing to accompany me to talk with them again? I am headed to their temporary quarters right now. Now that T'Pel is with the away team…."

"Of course, Captain. I am happy to be of help." He smiled at her, and for the first time since she had met him, she sensed that he meant it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

As T'Pel materialized with the away team, she fought to quiet her emotions. Without her Kolinhar training, she would not have been prepared to confront the ghosts and demons that awaited them. The last vestiges of the beings that had so recently lived on this world still floated in agony among the empty dwellings and through the streets of the colony on the Andorian moon. She knew the others, the Starfleet officers could not sense the ghosts. If they had, they would have surely been driven insane with fear and despair.

The ghosts swirled about her body, as she walked through the colony. By her side was Dr. Crusher, who carried a tricorder in front of her as if it were a shield. She could feel Crusher's fear encircle her, but like the ghosts, T'Pel kept the human woman's fear at bay, and did not let it affect her own emotions. The other officers spread throughout the colony, attending to their duties, gathering data to help them to understand what had occurred there. T'Pel, though thoroughly logical, needed little scientific evidence to tell her that many people had been killed here, and recently.

The method of killing, T'Pel could now guess, but the reason why, was still a mystery to her. What she needed to know for certain was if Ra'Val was still alive, for she knew that if anyone was capable of this level of destruction, it was him. While there was no evidence yet that he was still in this world, she had sensed him when she was on the Enterprise although faintly. Ra'Val was her brother, and although they had been estranged for years, as long as he lived she would be able to sense him.

"This is amazing," Crusher was saying under her breath, as she waved her tricorder in front of her. She tapped at the instrument energetically. She glanced up at T'Pel, who had been silent since the beam down. "The area is full of Andorian genetic material, but it is literally microscopic." She shook her head as though she did not believe what the tricorder was telling her.

"Yes," said T'Pel. "Many have died here, Doctor. We must be vigilant should the killer still be present," she added, knowing it was unlikely that Ra'Val was still here. She did not intend dishonesty, but she also did not wish to reveal her connection to Ra'Val until it was necessary.

* * *

Lt. Worf walked among the empty buildings of the colony, phaser drawn, as Chief of Security Yar had instructed. He preferred to work alone. So far, he felt little connection to any of his new crew members. He was however, impressed with the Captain, who seemed to be at times very Klingon-like; honorable and brave, if a bit too stoic to be a true Klingon. He could tell that like him, Picard was uninterested in emotional topics, and preferred to keep his feelings to himself unless necessary. Picard might be the exception to the rule, however. Although Worf had been raised from an early age by humans, he was under no illusion that he was anything like human beings.

For one thing, they were much too talkative for his taste. The food and drink they consumed tasted too bland to him. They were also too sensitive to emotional matters he could easily ignore. Instead of smashing a table with his bare fists, as Worf would sometimes do to resolve the anger caused by emotional problems, Worf had observed that a human instead would often shout, complain and…cry. Up until now, he had not observed any of his crew members crying, but, he had lived among humans long enough to know it was only a matter of time.

* * *

Riker scuffed his boot in the rocks and dust and squinted as he slowly surveyed the colony. There was no one left. The Captain said Commander Zatha had suggested there might have been survivors. But it looked as though the Andorians had evacuated anyone who had lived through…well, whatever had happened here. Riker was baffled by the absolute absence of any sign of physical damage to the domestic structures of the colony, and that there was no sign of weapons fire or explosives.

He was again skeptical that the Andorians were telling the truth about the deaths here, but he saw no motive for them to lie. The other thing was that he could just_ feel_ that something horrible had happened here, even if he could not see any proof of the event. He glanced over at Dr. Crusher who was talking to T'Pel in quiet tones. She kept gesturing to her tricorder, so it seemed, she had found something. He was about to walk in her direction, when he heard a shout. It was Lt. LaForge.

"Sir! Come quick!" Geordi LaForge was kneeling on the ground and staring intensely in the direction of his knees. Lt. Yar stood beside him, phaser pointing in the same direction. He began to jog in their direction, and arrived next to them quickly.

"What did you find," he said, stopping next to Yar, and pulling his phaser.

Geordi looked up at him. "It's a humanoid life form," said LaForge. "Someone is in there, sir, and whoever they are, they're alive," he said pointing at a grimy hatch in the ground, partially covered by dust. Riker listened, but could hear nothing. LaForge's visor had come in handy, Riker thought, and probably not for the last time. He turned as Crusher arrived at his side, slightly out of breath.

"What is it?" She said. T'Pel seemed to glide up behind them.

Riker nodded to Geordi. "Geordi thinks he's found someone alive down there under that hatch."

Dr. Crusher flipped open her tricorder. Almost immediately she said "Geordi's right, and she's an Andorian," said Crusher. "Looks like we have one survivor after all."

Worf glanced at Riker, who nodded silent permission. Worf leaned down and grabbed at the edge of the hatch, attempting to pry it up with his fingers. It came up with a hiss, but was still stuck. He rattled it, but no luck. "It is locked from the inside," said Worf.

"Sir?" said Yar looking for permission.

"Go ahead," nodded Riker. "Just be careful."

Yar tapped a button on her phaser twice and a very thin beam issued from the weapon. The edge of the hatch glowed red, and then with a puff of smoke, popped open. Yar immediately advanced to the edge of what appeared to be an agricultural storage bin, and pointed her phaser down at the sole occupant of the bin. A female Andorian stared back at her, frightened, but defiant. By the looks of her, she was a teenager.

She'd seen the look on that girl's face too many times in her life. Slowly, she lowered her phaser. "Hey," she said, crouching down. "We're here to help you." The girl looked as though she was considering fighting. Instead, as though she had springs in her legs, she leapt from the bottom of the bin, and scrambled out onto the ground. She tried to spring away, but Worf grabbed her quickly and then held onto her as gently as possible. The girl bit him on the shoulder and flailed her limbs wildly. Suddenly and without warning, she went limp. Had he crushed her lungs? Worf looked at Doctor Crusher, alarmed.

She smiled grimly and held up a hypo. "Tranquilizer. She'll be out for a few hours at least."

Worf nodded. "Thank you Doctor. For a moment, I was certain that I had killed her."

Crusher stared at him for a moment and then patted him on the arm, not quite sure how to respond to that declaration.

Riker shut the hatch. "We're done here," he said. "Let's return to the ship. "Transporter room, seven to beam up."

* * *

Picard and Troi sat across from the boy. Ja'Nel was his name and he was slim and very poised. "Ja'Nel, we need your help," said Deanna. Ja'Nel looked from Troi to Picard blankly and then back at the table.

"Ja'Nel," said Picard leaning forward seriously. "I need some information from you. Can you tell us what happened down on the Andorian moon?"

Ja'Nel said nothing.

"Ja'Nel," said Deanna. "I think you must have seen some horrible things. Perhaps it might make you feel better if you told us what happened."

The boy hung his head and whispered something. Troi attempted to make eye contact with him. "Ja'Nel, what did you say?"

He looked up at her, and for the first time, an emotion shone in his eyes. It was pain. "I will never feel better," said Ja'Nel. Just as quickly, his expression grew blank again. He resumed his staring down at the table.

Deanna Troi was amazed at the level of control the young man was showing.

"Ja'Nel," said Deanna leaning forward. "What happened to the leader of your group, Ra'Val?"

The boy placed his palms on the table in front of him and began to move them back and forth in a peculiar manner. Picard eyed him with some concern.

"Ja'Nel-" began Picard.

"You must stop these questions," said the boy in a suddenly threatening voice. "Or I will not be able to stop it," he said.

Troi reached out to touch the boy's hand and that is when everything went wrong. Picard felt himself being pushed back and out of his chair as if by a great wind. Troi was also pushed up and out of her chair, and for a moment they were suspended in mid-air. They could both see with horror that Ja'Nel's eyes had turned black and there seemed to be no end to their darkness.

His mouth hung open and light seemed to emit from inside of him. He stared at them, through them, and then suddenly they were thrust backward at a great speed. Picard felt Troi slam into him and he grabbed her around the waist, trying to protect her as they spun to the floor. Picard landed on the floor hard, his chin and then his forehead crashing to into the hard deck with a crunch. Troi landed partially on top of him.

* * *

"Ugh," moaned Troi, and rolled off of the Captain. Her head had struck the floor, and she could already feel a welt on the side of her scalp, near her temple. She gingerly felt it with her fingers and then inspected them for blood. There was none. She looked at the Captain, who conscious and now sitting up. "Sir, you're bleeding," she exclaimed. She winced, at that, finding that the act of speaking made her nauseous and the pain in her head increased.

"I'm alright," he said groggily and then pushed himself to his feet slowly. He was looking for the boy. Were they out of danger? At first he didn't see Ja'Nel anywhere, but then suddenly his eyes fell on the boy. He was under the table, lying on his back and convulsing. Picard hit his communicator and crouched down. "Transporter room, this is the Captain in the main briefing room on Deck 9. Counselor Troi is injured, and I have a boy here who is having some sort of seizure. Lock on to my location and beam all three of us to sickbay," he ordered. He scooped the boy up into his arms just as the transport beam enveloped them.

* * *

Ensign Revel, the nurse on duty was waiting for the Captain and the others to materialize. Doctor Crusher had not yet returned from the Andorian colony. After the Captain had called in an emergency transport, Revel had rushed to begin preparing three beds, not knowing what to expect. The Captain materialized a few moments later, carrying one of the rescued Vulcan children in his arms. The Captain's face and neck were covered in blood. Counselor Troi materialized, in a slumped position appearing quite disoriented. Picard ran to one of the examination beds and placed the boy on it. The Captain had said the boy was having a seizure, but now it appeared the boy had fallen unconscious. Revel rushed in to help the Captain adjust the boy on the bed, while another nurse helped Counselor Troi to a second bed.

"Captain, you need medical attention," said Revel, quickly trying to gauge the extent of the Captain's injuries. It appeared he had a large gash above his left eyebrow, as well as a cut on his chin, both of which had bled profusely but were now starting to clot. Although the Captain looked horrible, Revel guessed that his wounds were not serious.

Picard ignored him, and began methodically placing restraints on the unconscious boy's wrists and ankles.

Revel was confused. "Sir, what are you—"

Just then, Dr. Crusher, Commander Riker, and Lt. Worf walked in to sick bay. Worf was carrying what appeared to be an Andorian female in his arms. Picard finished placing the restraints on the Vulcan boy and then turned at the sound of footsteps.

"What the hell?" Crusher signaled for Worf to place the still-unconscious Andorian girl on a bio bed for a scan. "Captain, you're injured, and you need to sit down," she said, stepping to his side. "Nurse, take care of your patient," she snapped at Revel, looking from Revel to the Vulcan boy, confusion clearly on her face.

Picard turned to face Commander Riker. "Commander, good to have you back on board. I'd like a report please."

Riker looked at Picard with astonishment. "Captain," he said, glancing at Dr. Crusher for support. "You appear to be injured, sir—"

"Commander, I need a report from you—"

"Captain Picard," said Crusher, now gripping his arm in her hand. "Your reports can wait until I have cleared you for duty, now _sit down_," she said firmly, guiding him to an examination bed. Reluctantly he moved with her.

* * *

Riker felt a pang of something familiar in his head. _Imzadi…_. Turning, he saw that Deanna was lying on a bed where medical personnel were administering to her. Shocked, he walked over to her side. She was awake, but groggy. He bent over her. "Deanna," he said. "What happened?" She smiled weakly up at him, but squeezed his hand when he offered it. He looked up at the nurse. "Is she going to be alright?"

The nurse was professional and efficient. "Commander, the counselor sustained a concussion and several minor contusions on her arms and legs from a severe fall. She will recover fully in a few days, sir."

"Fall?"

Deanna opened her eyes again. "Will it was Ja'Nel, the leader of the Redeemer children. He threw the Captain and me across the room so that we would stop asking him questions."

"_Threw_ you?" Riker looked over at the small, frail looking teenager.

Deanna blinked. Her vision was so foggy. "With his mind," she said dully.

Riker shook his head in bewilderment. He lifted her hand and kissed it lightly, causing her to smile again. "Please get some rest. I need to talk with the Captain."

* * *

"Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt, but…"

Captain Picard turned with some effort to look at Riker from where he was sitting on the exam bed. His face had now been cleaned off revealing a large gash above his eye and one on his chin. Dr. Crusher was gripping his face gently but firmly, as she used a dermal knitting tool to close the wounds.

"I thought you were on my side, Commander," Crusher remarked, a slight edge to her voice. Riker chose to ignore the dig.

"Yes, what is it, Number One?" asked Picard. Riker smiled in spite of everything that had just happened. Number One? He liked the sound of that.

"Sir, Counselor Troi just told me that little boy caused you both to be injured…with his mind. I recommend he be sedated as soon as possible, sir, to prevent this happening again."

Picard rolled his eyes in order to look at Crusher, who was still holding on to his face, restricting his movement. "Doctor, do you agree? Can the boy be safely sedated for an extended period of time?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'll do it personally, once I finish here," she said evenly.

Picard glanced at Riker again. "Anything else I should know, Riker?"

"Yes, sir. We've brought back a survivor, an Andorian girl."

"A survivor? Is she conscious?"

"She was a bit excitable Captain, so Dr. Crusher had to tranquilize her."

Picard pulled away from Crusher's ministrations for a moment so that he could look at her. "Did you bring her aboard without her permission? I _ordered_ you to investigate, not kidnap Andorian citizens," he snapped.

"Captain, you didn't expect us to leave a child alone down on that moon, did you? There was no one else alive down there," retorted Crusher. She tried to resume her stitching with the tool, but Picard held her wrist, and they continued to glare at each other.

Riker interjected, clearing his throat in an attempt to prevent things from worsening. For a moment his mind shot back to those moments in the shuttle and Wesley's comments about Picard. Apparently, their history was alive and well in the present.

"Actually, Captain, I think Doctor Crusher is right," said Riker. The Captain gave him an acerbic look that seemed to say "oh you think she's right, do you?" but Riker pressed on anyway. "The girl was hiding, she was so frightened from what had happened. There is no way the Andorian government was aware she was still down there. In fact, sir, I think that the Andorians will thank us, once they've learned that we found her."

Picard folded his arms over his chest and seemed to be weighing his options. "We'll wait for her to wake up in a few hours and then obtain any information we can from her about the attack on her home. Once we've spoken to her, then we'll notify the Andorians of her presence. And since you gave the order to beam her back, Commander, I'm sure you won't mind doing the honors, informing Commander Zatha of this new development," he added, smiling tightly.

"Understood sir," said Riker with a curt nod. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Crusher finished mending Picard's facial wounds shortly after Riker left. The mood between them was still tense, but now that Crusher was done with her work Picard found she was much easier to deal with. Perhaps, he reasoned, he should not have been so harsh with her about the Andorian girl. It was likely he would have done the same, had he been there. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't been there that annoyed him even more. He didn't like the idea of his crew being at-risk without him having the ability to act on their behalf to keep them safe. But, that had been Riker's role, and in fact everyone had come back uninjured, except for Worf, who, Crusher informed him, had been bitten by their Andorian visitor.

Crusher patted his face lightly. He knew it was her attempt to mend fences, so to speak, without actually saying anything about it. "You'll be as good as new in a few days, Captain. Judging by what you report happened, you were fortunate not to have been more seriously injured."

Picard nodded. "Thank you, Doctor, I am feeling fine."

"Good," said Crusher. She began to put her tools away and turned back to him. "Jean-Luc?"

Her use of his first name always touched something deep inside him that he couldn't quite place. It was something about the tone she used, or the gentle turn her voice took when she called him by his name. It always changed the flow of the conversation and mood. "Yes?" he said.

"Will told me that Admiral Imhoff gave you a bit of a hard time yesterday."

Will? "Oh, Commander Riker," he said. "He told you that?" He frowned. So much for confidentiality between a Captain and his First Officer.

"Yes," she said. "Jean-Luc, I know you are under tremendous pressure to show Starfleet what the Enterprise is capable of, and that the politicians are watching your every move…." He looked into her eyes, not really sure what she was getting at, but feeling suddenly connected to her in a very comfortable way. He wasn't used to that, and it alarmed him. Slowly he felt himself withdrawing even as she continued to speak.

She sighed and smiled at him. "I just want you to know that I'll support you professionally, no matter what. I know that in the past sometimes your commanding officers have held you responsible for…"

"Never for anything I wasn't responsible for Beverly. I always took responsibility for—"

"Jean-Luc, I don't want to talk about the past right now," she interrupted softly.

"Good," he said. "Doctor, I appreciate your concern..."

"But, let me guess- you don't need my support?" It was a challenge he knew, and he had no idea how to answer her. A lump rose in his throat, and he took a step backward.

"I have to go," he said slowly. She didn't seem surprised, but just continued to look at him. Gradually her gaze grew less open and she glanced away with an expression of embarrassment. He realized then that he had made an error of some kind.

Beverly gave a small shrug and turned to finish putting her equipment away. "I'll see you later then, Captain."

* * *

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing this story. I do appreciate your readership. -PP**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"He continues to sleep," said T'Pel, peering down at the young Redeemer boy, Ja'Nel. The Vulcan woman stood with quiet composure by his bedside.

Crusher sighed. "It's more serious than sleep. He is nearly comatose. The Captain and Commander Riker ordered me to sedate him, but the truth is, he didn't need sedation after that incident." she said. She reached down and touched the boy's gaunt face. Her own face was shadowed with sadness. "I keep thinking, T'Pel…what would his parents think if they knew the condition he was in? It makes my heart ache just thinking about Wesley falling ill like this, and then just suddenly not being there."

T'Pel turned to Beverly. "Doctor, what Ja'Nel is experiencing is similar to what you saw me undergo ten years ago. It is a natural way in which Vulcans heal themselves." Crusher fixed her with a somber expression. Was she trying to be comforting? As if Beverly needed to be reminded of that awful time in addition to everything else that was happening in the present.

T'Pel seemed to sense her discomfort. "This subject disturbs you. We need not discuss it."

Crusher reached up and smoothed her hair uneasily. "Well, yes, I do try to avoid dredging up those memories too often. But …I do remember you seemed to be in a semi-comatose state after…. " She trailed off, looking down at her hands, surprised by her intense memory. "But you did wake up long enough to try and comfort me. And it meant a great deal to me. It still does," she added softly.

T'Pel stared vacantly, as though she had returned to her past in those moments. Abruptly she moved away from Ja'Nel's beside and gestured to Crusher's office. "May I speak with you privately, Doctor?" Beverly nodded and followed T'Pel, after giving one last glance at the boy lying placidly.

Once they had entered Crusher's office, T'Pel sat down, hands folded in her lap. "For many years I have thought about this subject…"

Crusher sat down across from her with a wary expression. "What subject?" she asked, hoping T'Pel did not want to discuss what now dominated her thoughts. _Jack._

T'Pel looked directly into her eyes. "I would like to explain to you about what happened to Jack."

Beverly clamped her mouth shut, trying to slow the emotional turmoil that had resurfaced. "I'm sorry T-Pel. I can't do this. Not right now." She stood up, and T'Pel did the same. She gave Beverly a slight nod.

"Sometimes we must face the memories that keep us awake at night; those that keep us from moving forward. When the time comes when you wish to learn the truth about what happened to your husband, I will help you, Beverly."

* * *

Wesley Crusher walked briskly through the ship corridors. He'd been practicing a more confident walk, although actual confidence hadn't yet come with it. He was excelling in school, but he was still awkward with his classmates. When he wasn't writing equations or focused on a solving problem he found that he was uncomfortable in almost any social situation. With other kids he discussed subjects they found boring.

With adults he blurted out questions that often embarrassed himself or the adults he was talking with. And when he was alone, he daydreamed about being on the bridge, or in engineering. He had tried to be cool around people his own age, but it didn't work. The only person who understood his difficulties was his mom, but Wesley was getting to the age when he found it difficult to keep going to her every time he had a personal problem. Of course she wouldn't mind, and would say that was what she was there for, but….Well, while she was busy healing patients in sickbay and going on away team missions, it was pretty clear to him that her down time was now more limited than ever, and he didn't want to be a burden.

As he rounded a corner, he saw Captain Picard and Commander Data stepping off of a turbo lift. It appeared that they were heading in the same direction he was; to sick bay. Hesitating slightly at the sight of the Captain, he again fell into his confident stride, and joined them. Placing his hands behind his back, he attempted an adult expression of seriousness.

"Good afternoon, Captain, Commander," he said as smoothly as possible. Data nodded with a slight smile.

Captain Picard turned to regard him, and Wesley was somewhat alarmed to see that the left side of the Captain's face was bruised and cut. Despite this, he smiled tightly at Wesley, perhaps noting Wesley's alarmed reaction to his injury. Wesley noticed that although Captain Picard's bearing was as formal as ever, his eyes seemed to hold a little more warmth than before.

"Hello, Mr. Crusher," said Picard by way of greeting. "On your way to sickbay?" The boy nodded. "Good," said Picard, "we are as well."

"I uh, I was on my way to see Mom-I mean Dr. Crusher. But if you are going to see her too, sir, I can wait."

"I certainly don't mind if you need to visit your mother, Wesley, just try and stay out of the way," said Picard.

"We are going to perform an interrogation, Wesley," said Data, in a tone that indicated he thought performing an interrogation promised to be great fun.

"Not quite, Data," corrected Picard dryly. "I don't equate questioning a teenage girl with performing an interrogation."

Welsey was curious. "A teenage girl?"

Picard looked at Wesley with a degree of amusement. Ah, youth. "Your mother and the other members of the away team found a young Andorian female down on the surface of the moon we are orbiting. They thought it…prudent to bring her on board."

"You don't think it was a good idea to bring her aboard, do you sir?" asked Wesley with a knowing smile.

Picard sighed and looked down at the boy. "My thoughts on the matter are really irrelevant at this stage, Wesley. She's now on board. She was sedated, and is now just waking up," said Picard.

* * *

They slowed as they entered sickbay. Dr. Crusher was monitoring the Andorian's vital signs, as the girl groggily began flexing her hands and feet. She moaned, and muttered in her native language, clearly disoriented. As she looked around and seemed to register where she was, a look of fear crossed her face.

Wesley stood enthralled. The Andorian girl appeared to be about seventeen in Earth years. To him, the girl was beautiful, but then even Wesley was aware that to him most girls were beautiful.

Doctor Crusher looked up at them and appeared to be about to say something, when the girl suddenly began to thrash about. Data and Picard rushed over and before Crusher could get a hypo anywhere near her, Picard grabbed Crusher and moved her out of the way of the girl's flailing limbs. The result was that the Andorian connected hard with her bony fist to his left eye, reopening the recently sealed cut. The girl screamed something at them in her native language. Andorians were known to be fierce warriors and apparently they started at a young age.

"Data," Picard grunted and staggered back slightly. Data moved forward quickly and grasped the girl's wrists, holding them gently but firmly as Dr. Crusher moved in to administer a sedative.

Picard, still holding his eye shouted "Wait! Don't give her anything too strong. We've got to get some answers from her before I meet with Zatha again."

Crusher shook her head. "I'll give her a low dosage. I know you need answers from her Captain, but the most I can promise is that her punches will be slower."

He nodded and wiped the palm of his hand above his eye. His hand came away slick with blood, but he knew it was just an aggravation of his previous injury.

She glanced back at him, annoyed. "I _had_ a sedative ready, Captain. That is, before you decided to interfere with my patient," she said sharply.

"I was merely concerned for your safety, Doctor," he said, blinking his eye several times to ensure that it still worked.

"While I appreciate your concern, Captain, I hope for all of our sakes that you will start showing the same regard for your own personal welfare." She moved back as the girl stopped struggling so intensely and nodded at him.

Now thoroughly irritated, Picard tapped a panel on the wall, switching on the universal translator.

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard," he said to the still writhing Andorian. Data continued to hold her steadily, until gradually she appeared to relax physically at least. "You are here with us aboard our ship the _U.S.S._ _Enterprise_. You are safe here, but we must ask you some questions about what happened to your village."

"If you come near me again I'll punch you in the nuts this time," warned the girl.

The universal translator was remarkable in its accuracy.

"Really, young lady, that won't be necessary, " said Picard, walking toward her. Data followed at his side. Instinctively, the captain dropped his hands protectively to below his waist as he maintained eye contact.

The girl narrowed her eyes and balled up her fist threateningly. "Do you want to test that theory?"

Picard glanced at Crusher out of the corner of his eye. She was glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Behind her stood Wesley Crusher who looked positively ill. Picard then glanced at Data, who appeared in contrast serene and unconcerned by the situation. "Very well," the Captain said, slowly. "I will ask my questions from over here," he agreed. The girl smiled in victory.

"What is your name?" asked the Captain.

The girl tilted her head at him. "I have no name anymore. My family was murdered."

"I am so sorry for your loss," said Picard gently. "We want to make sure that you are reunited with your people soon. But…we would be very grateful if you would tell us what happened."

The girl dropped her gaze and for the first time, looked less like a defiant warrior and more like an abandoned child. "They were Vulcans." She looked up sharply. "My parents always told me that Vulcans were wise…and gentle. No one in my village expected what happened to us that day."

Crusher ventured softly. "We were shocked to find that you had survived, after so many of your people were killed," she said. "How…"

"I hid, that is how I survived. Only those of us who took cover survived. I am weak and yet I am still here," she said as though she were surprised by her continued existence.

"No one who survived what you did could be considered weak," Picard reassured her. "You said only those who hid survived. What happened to the others? Did they fight?"

"They tried, but he…he was too strong. And he had no mercy—not even for his own kind." Suddenly she broke off and a look of terror crossed her face as she stared over Picard's shoulder.

The officers turned to see that T'Pel had quietly entered sickbay and stood silently watching. The girl was frozen in place, clearly not expecting to see another Vulcan this soon after the horror of what had happened.

T'Pel averted her eyes, so as not to frighten the girl further. "I mean you no harm," she said. "But you must tell us more, so that we can ensure your family receives justice."

"The only justice for _him_ would be death," cried the girl. "He destroyed with only a thought, everyone around him. He even killed his own people! And when he was done he seemed to explode into millions of particles and disappeared. I pray that he is dead!"

"Can you describe this person you refer to?" said Crusher after a few moments.

The girl shot out her hand and pointed a trembling finger in T'Pel's direction. "He looked like her," she whispered.

"This child speaks the truth," said T'Pel.

Picard frowned and walked toward his old friend. "What are you saying?"

"Ra'Val is my brother," said the Vulcan.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this, T'Pel?" Picard was livid.

"Captain, I only did what I believed was the most logical course of action. I did plan on revealing this truth to you, when necessary."

* * *

Picard placed his hands flat on the desk in Crusher's office. "And now that I have this information, what good is it to me? Do you know where Ra'Val is? Is he alive or is he dead?"

"I…believe that he is alive, Captain, in some form."

"What do you mean, in some form?"

"I have sensed his presence on this ship, but I do not know why."

Picard straightened up and glanced at Crusher in furious disbelief. She looked as though she was in shock. Picard struggled to keep his voice calm. "T'Pel, where is he?"

"I do not know, Jean-Luc." She looked into her friend's eyes and saw distrust reflected back at her for the first time since she had known him.

Still looking at her, he slapped his communicator. "Picard to Chief of Security."

"Yar here, Captain," came the young woman's voice.

"Lt. Yar, I need you to mobilize your people and conduct a complete sweep of this ship. We are looking for an adult Vulcan male. Data, transmit Ra'Val's physical description to Yar. You must take extreme precaution and care, Lt. We are dealing with a very dangerous and powerful telepath. We now know that he is capable of killing with his mind. Keep me apprised of anything of note."

"Aye sir," said Yar.

* * *

"If he's on this ship, T'pel has put us all at risk," said Picard in a distant tone. He stood, back straight and tense, staring into the corner of Crusher's cramped office. He was contemplating now whether he should leave the ship now to meet with the Andorian Commander Zatha, or wait until he was certain Ra'Val was not on board or had been captured. Crusher stood behind him, wondering whether to try and reason with him or just ask him to leave her office so she could get some work done. Because he seemed on the verge of making a decision, she decided on the former.

"She was just doing what she thought was right, Jean-Luc," suggested Crusher. "You can't fault her for that."

"Yes, I damn well _can_!" he shouted, and turned to regard her with an intensity she had rarely seen him display. Crusher flinched involuntarily and crossed her arms over her chest. She was reminded in moments like these how different he was from Jack, and how little she really knew him. Jean-Luc was a person with great passion for knowledge, for justice and for exploration, and yet most of the time he was extremely controlled.

With Jack, at least during the first years they were together, she always knew where she stood. Jack was almost incapable of keeping a secret, which was one of the reasons she loved him, and in part why things became so strained between them during the last few years of his life. Picard on the other hand had often been a mystery even to Jack and Walker, but at the time his distant personality was more of a convenience to her than a hindrance. After all, if he remained remote he was unlikely to intrude on Jack and Beverly's relationship.

But now, she viewed things differently. A relationship with him now was simply unavoidable; she had to work with him every day. But now she knew she wanted more than just a working relationship with him. She wanted to get to know him. The problem was, he might not let her.

His expression softened somewhat when he saw the startled reaction on Crusher's face. She could tell he was embarrassed and regretted his outburst. "I do apologize for my tone, Doctor. I have no right to take my frustrations out on you."

She moved closer to him, reminding herself that it wasn't her he was angry with. "Jean-Luc," she said. "You can be open with me. If we're to be friends…well we should be able to share our feelings. Isn't that what friends do?" She looked at him searchingly. He returned her gaze allowing a hint of his emotion to show. She could see that he was disappointed and confused. She was now coming to understand that he detested betrayal. And he clearly felt that T'Pel had betrayed his trust. "Tell me what is bothering you," she offered. She wanted to reach out to him, to offer him comfort, but something held her back. She hesitated in part due to his recent standoffish behavior.

He sighed and looked away and took a step back. She now recognized this as a signature move of his. She closed the distance and he moved away. But instead of taking it personally this time, she realized that he was too intent on the problems of the moment to connect with her. Which, of course she being a practical person, understood.

"What is bothering me is that I cannot be in two places at once. You're correct, Doctor, it does no good to be angry about this. I need to focus on the solution. And that means I need to leave for the Andorian ship at once."

Seeing that he had made up his mind, Crusher moved away and sat down behind her desk. "Captain, please be careful."

Surprisingly, he blushed. "Of course," he said with a small appreciative smile, before turning and exiting sick bay. "I'll see you soon.

* * *

Picard stood on the transporter pad with the young still-unnamed Andorian female. She stood staring straight ahead angrily as though she were facing an invisible adversary. Lt. Yar had argued that the Andorian girl be put in restraints for the transport in case she became violent again, but Picard had forbade it. The appearance of a lone teenage Andorian survivor in handcuffs might be enough to send the Andorians over the edge, and he was unwilling to take that risk.

"Keep things under control while I'm gone, Number One and I want to know the minute Ra'Val is found-if he is here."

"Aye sir, understood," said Riker reluctantly. He didn't like this latest development, but orders were orders. "And good luck sir," he added. He watched as the two figures shimmered and then beamed away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Vulcan 2327**

_He is not like us," her father said darkly. The young girl hid out of sight in the shadows of the doorway as her parents talked softly and seriously._

_"He is still our son," insisted her mother defiantly._

_"Yes, but for how long? He is evolving, changing into something which we cannot control."_

_"Do you believe he is a danger to T'pel?" At the mention of her name, the girl shrank back even further hoping she would go unnoticed. Her parents did not tolerate deception. But she needed to learn the fate of her brother, to whom she was devoted._

_"He is meant for another life," said her father. "T'Pel will go to Starfleet; that is her destiny. She must not be distracted from her goals by her brother's...flaws."_

_"He is not flawed," said her mother. "He is very special."_

_T'Pel's father looked at her mother with more vulnerability than she would ever see again. "Your emotional connection to him will be our downfall," her father said almost in warning. "If we keep him with us here, there will soon be a price to pay."_

_"We are his family. We should be willing to pay the price," said her mother. Her parents regarded one another for a few moments longer, and then her father exited the room. A great silence fell over the house and remained for some time afterwards._

* * *

T'Pel sat in her guest room on the Enterprise, attempting to meditate. Instead her mind was full of doubt and intruding images from her past. She did not feel guilt for keeping her connection to Ra'Val from Picard, although she recognized from her knowledge of his personality that he would remain angry with her for some time. She could not let the emotional spirit of a human she once loved to distract her from what she knew she needed to do, now that her brother still lived.

While she remained focused, she did feel somewhat unsettled. Unsettled by the probability that her brother was on board the Enterprise, and that this meant he would need to be confronted when found. She knew that this was her burden; to find her brother and bring him to justice. What form this justice took had yet to be discovered. She switched on her communications console, patching herself in to the Vulcan High Council. There was a flicker and then the image of an extremely severe looking Vulcan male appeared on the screen. They regarded each other for a few moments until the official finally spoke.

"Greetings, T'Pel. We have been awaiting your report. Has your…brother been located?" To non-Vulcan ears, his tone would have been innocuous, but to T'Pel she knew she was being accused, although of what she could not be certain.

"Delegate Stahl," said T'Pel with polite acknowledgement. "Ra'Val has not yet been found. I am…quite sure, however, that he still lives. I am prepared to bring the children back to Vulcan. It will not be simple. The Andorians have labeled these children as criminals."

Stahl nodded very slightly. "We must learn your intentions, T'Pel. Have you eliminated all emotional connections to your sibling? It is important for the people of Vulcan to know that you have our best interests in mind."

"Of course," she said. "However, my mission is to bring the children back to Vulcan. Have the goals of this mission changed?"

"If Ra'Val is alive he must be brought to justice," said Stahl cryptically.

"Meaning?"

Stahl's expression remained unchanged. "Your brother has caused considerable suffering, T'Pel. Apart from the suffering he has caused the Andorians, he has also brought dishonor to his own people. His reappearance on Vulcan, even to stand trial would be most…disruptive."

T'Pel tilted her head as though she were not sure of what she was hearing. "Delegate Stahl, are you suggesting that I kill my own brother?"

Stahl's cold eyes narrowed slightly. "I am suggesting that you follow logic, and not emotion. You were chosen for this mission because you have proven your mastery of logic through Kolinahr. Some objected to your appointment because of your blood connection to Ra'Val. Perhaps you must ask yourself now if it is logical for your brother, who has caused so much destruction, to continue to live. Please keep the Council informed of your progress. Stahl out."

* * *

Deanna entered the large room to find just a few officers, mostly maintenance and operational personnel, shifting furniture around and moving various items. It was a star ship lounge, the biggest she'd seen, not that she'd been on many star ships for longer than a few days. It appeared to be a work in progress, but even more than the disorder, she noticed the view. It was situated at the front of the ship on deck ten, and it boasted an expansive viewing area from which you could look right out into space. Presently the ship was static and several thousand meters away was the Andorian ship the Ishran. All around the two ships lay the vast blanket of alternating darkness and brilliant celestial bodies. It was compelling, even for someone accustomed to space travel.

She tore her attention away from the beauty outside, and re-focused on the reason she'd come to Ten Forward. The lone patron's broad shoulders were slumped and he was sitting alone at a table.

"It's not like you to sulk, Will," she said, approaching from behind. He lifted his head, but didn't turn around.

"Oh, is that what I'm doing?" he questioned, finally looking over his shoulder.

She sighed and sat down in a chair adjacent to him. "Yes." She folded her hands in her lap and glanced around her. "It's a nice place," she said. "Cozy."

"It's fine," he said, swirling around a purple drink in his glass. "I wouldn't mind something stronger than synthehol, though. Are you here to counsel me?" he added with a sideways glance.

She smiled and placed her hand over his. "I'm here to talk," she said.

"About?"

"About why you're having second thoughts about what most people would consider the professional opportunity of a lifetime."

He cleared his throat and fell back into the chair. "I'll admit, it's been a challenge, Deanna. But I still want to be here...I just...I need to know how I fit into the command of this ship." He lifted a tight fist in the air in front of him and stared at it with a philosophical expression. "This is him."

"The Captain?"

"He's not interested in sharing this ship with me, Troi. I feel...well he's shut me out." He slapped his chest. "_I_ should be the one over there on the Ishran. It's to damn risky."

"You argued your position deftly, Will. Ultimately, it's his decision, and even if it's your role to lead the away teams, you have to admit this situation with the Andorians is a bit different."

"Different than _what_? I have no context, I've just met the man!"

"You are worried that he is going to decide to lead every away team from here on out?"

He exhaled. "Well he wasn't happy with me bringing back that Andorian girl..."

"Actually he seemed more upset with Doctor Crusher."

"Oh," laughed Riker. "That's an entirely different conversation."

"Agreed."

"Yeah, okay, I know you're right Deanna. It's just that he and I are both territorial in our own ways."

"You'll have to learn to work together," Deanna said. "I've already learned that trust is not easily won with him. We are both going to have to work very hard to establish a healthy working relationship with Captain Picard."

Riker finished his drink and turned to look at Deanna with a warm smile. He squeezed her hand tightly. "Have I told you how much I've missed you?"

She smiled back at him. "You didn't have to."

* * *

Picard and the Andorian girl materialized in what appeared to be a conference room. The temperature in the room was surprisingly low, and Picard immediately felt goose bumps form on his skin. Commander Zatha was waiting alone for them. She was tall and imposing in person, and the way she held herself reminded him that he had always been drawn to tall women. He also noticed that she was armed with a sidearm at her hip and a menacing looking curved knife was strapped to her leg.

She strode forward, her antennae alertly pointed at him. She regarded his still healing bruised face with open curiosity and a touch of amusement. Her voice was clear and cool. "Captain Picard, I must confess I did not expect you to be so…battered." Picard resisted the self-conscious gesture of touching his face.

"Yes, well, such is the life of a starship captain," said Picard wryly. "Surely you can relate, Commander Zatha," he added.

"Not really, Picard. I prefer to let my subordinates take the brunt of the physical damage." He could tell by her smooth, almost aristocratic countenance that she was likely speaking the truth.

"Perhaps the Vulcan children you are harboring are not as innocent as you maintain, Captain," she continued, still making light of his bruised face. "Or," she said with a sly smile, "Perhaps this young one is responsible for the sad condition of your face."

Zatha fixed the young Andorian woman with a look of appreciation, and then beckoned the girl to her side. Showing her first signs of compliance, the girl immediately went to stand next to the Andorian commander. She stood silently and obediently by the commander's side. Zatha placed a steady hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Unfortunately, Commander, you are right on both counts," Picard said thinly. "In fact this young woman is quite a fighter. Now, might we get down to business?"

Zatha nodded to one of her lieutenants. "Take this young one away, clean her up and give her something to eat. Help her to understand that she is safe with her people now."

* * *

The guard gently took the girl by the hand, and they walked out of the chamber. Picard was suddenly struck by the kindness these Andorians were showing one another. It was in stark contrast to the way they treated outsiders. He had grown up believing the Andorians to be a very fierce race, and that they were; but more often than not, his experiences with non-humans continued to teach him that cultural stereotypes were only one part of the story.

Zatha gestured for Picard to sit down and he did. She poured a glass of something cool and tinted blue, and set it down in front of him. Still watching him, she poured herself a glass from the same pitcher and then sat down across from him at the long stone table. Andorians did not toast, he knew, but he did know something of their customs, having served with an Andorian on the Stargazer. In a symbolic gesture of trust, Picard raised the glass and took a sip before she did.

She spoke first. "I am glad you were sent to carry out this mission, Picard. You are not unknown to our people. We respect you. But…the Vulcan children must pay for their crimes. And you must deliver them to us, so that we may carry out our justice." She delicately raised her glass to her lips and then drained it in one swallow.

"You mean put them to death," said Picard. Observing Andorian decorum he drained his own glass and instantly became light-headed.

Zatha shrugged and smiled, pouring Picard another glass of what he now knew was Andorian ale. "What is it you humans say? An eye for an eye…."

Picard shook his head. "Your knowledge of human sayings is impressive, however it is misplaced in this context, Commander. You and I both know that those children are not at fault for what happened to those colonists."

"Who is at fault then?" She studied his face with quiet concentration. It seemed to him that she already knew the answer to her own question, but was judging his trustworthiness.

"A Vulcan named Ra'Val," said Picard. "The Andorian girl we found on the moon colony confirmed that it was Ra'Val."

"And where is this Vulcan, Ra'Val?"

Picard hesitated only slightly. "We do not know if he is alive or dead."

"So you did not find his body?"

Picard kept his face neutral. "No," he said simply. He sipped at his glass of ale, and then steeling himself, drank the rest. He felt a harsh warmth rush through his neck and chest. "Did you?" He knew his attempt to appear unsuspecting was not going to be well-received.

"Captain, if we already had a body of a known murderer in our custody, why would we be chasing school children?"

"So you admit you know that Ra'Val was responsible for the deaths of your people," said Picard softly.

Commander Zatha's smile was as chilly as the air in the room. "I will admit to nothing, Captain. The fact is that I have been given a duty: to bring the killers of my people to justice. The time has come for me to carry out my duty."

"I think it is time that the Andorian government shifts the focus off of these young people—"

"Captain, unless you have _evidence_ to prove the innocence of these children—"  
"Commander, where is your evidence to prove they _are not_ innocent?" Picard snapped back.

"The fleet is mobilizing Captain." said Zatha, resignedly. "Despite my orders to capture them, my government is not focused on these children. It is instead focused on war with the Vulcans. You should see by now that my role in this conflict is very small, as is yours. Perhaps we should both carry out our limited duties as best we can."

"Commander…my duty is not just to protect these children but to prevent war if I can." Zatha fixed him with a stare that indicated she suspected he might be insane.

"I will…convey your information about Ra'Val to the Andorian High Command, Captain," agreed Zatha. "But I cannot guarantee their cooperation. In fact, the situation could change for the worse, and very quickly."

"I understand," said Picard. "We are both in a difficult position."

"Perhaps if you were to give some assurance that the Vulcan murderer would be captured and delivered to us, Captain...the politicians may be willing to shift their focus to him and let the children be."

"I wish that I could make that promise," said Picard. "But as I told you, I haven't enough information to know whether Ra'Val is alive or—"

An electronic screech interrupted the conference. Zatha pressed her palm into an indentation on the table. "Speak," she ordered the officer on the other end.

"Incoming message from High Command," said a reedy voice on the other end.

* * *

Commander Zatha looked at Picard with a curious expression as though she were contemplating something very interesting. Then she said, "Patch it in here, Hakka."

There was a pause. "Commander, are you alone?" asked Hakka, with some suspicion.

"I _said_ patch it in, Hakka. I will deal with your insolence later," snapped Commander Zatha. Almost immediately a foot tall hologram of a high ranking Andorian officer materialized above the table. The hologram was facing away from Picard, and apparently was unaware of his presence; something that Zatha had apparently anticipated. Zatha stood at attention. "General Thran, I am at your service," she said with a curt bow.

"Yes, you are," said the General. "And you are now ordered to take your ship to the Alpha Quadrant to join the rest of the armada."

"Does this mean that you no longer wish me to capture the renegade children, sir?" Zatha's sarcasm was barely under the surface of her seemingly concerned tone. Picard kept his amused reaction under cover.

"Justice comes in many forms, Commander," said the General. "The High Command has now chosen to challenge the arrogance of the Vulcan people. Their failure to respond to our demands will be their undoing."

"Are we now at war, sir?" asked Zatha.

The General smiled. "You are under orders," he said simply. "Should the Enterprise fall into pursuit, we will consider re-visiting the issue of these children later."

"And what of the Enterprise, sir? I have met with the Starfleet Captain, and he insists that the children are innocent—"

"Does he agree to hand them over to you?"

"No sir, he continues to refuse," replied Zatha. Picard clasped the arms of the chair tensely.

The General paused. "Is he still aboard your ship?"

Zatha's eyes briefly flicked to Picard. What on earth was she doing, he wondered? "Yes," she replied. Picard's pulse began to race.

"Take him into custody," said the General. "You are correct that we are at war, Commander. Captain Picard is a prisoner of war. Without its Captain, the Enterprise will be injured, and we can use Picard as a bargaining chip later on in exchange for the children."

"But we are not at war with Starfleet, sir," Zatha reminded her commanding officer.  
"Do as you are told immediately, or you will be relieved of command. General Thran out." The hologram blinked out of sight.

* * *

Picard leapt to his feet. "What the hell?"

Commander Zatha hit the comlink again. "Lieutenant Hakka, set course for the Alpha Quadrant, full impulse power."

"Commander, at that speed it will take us too long—"  
"You heard me, Lieutenant!"

She switched off the link and turned to Picard, who stood facing her, fists clenched. She wondered if he would fight, rather than be taken prisoner. At that moment she decided that despite its bruises, it was a good face.

Picard hit his communicator. "Picard to Enterprise."

"Captain you know you are out of communications and transporter range at this point. My ship is already on its way to rendezvous with the fleet."

Picard shook his head. "You've no authority to keep me prisoner here! You're not at war with Starfleet, you said so, yourself."

"Picard," she laughed. "You and I agree on many things. Perhaps under better circumstances…but these are not those circumstances." She walked over to him and looked him in his eye. Her antennae were now pointing toward the back of her head. "Sometimes prisoners _escape_, Picard. The main shuttle bay is down two levels from here. You'll have approximately five minutes before I order my ship into warp. Now hit me," she ordered.

He was so angry, that he barely hesitated to haul off and belt her with his fist, but instantly regretted it. Clearly she was an honorable person, acting within the confines of a very rigid system. He knew that if she was discovered to have aided his escape, she could be executed. Clearly she had her reasons for why she had both alerted the General to his presence, and let him go. Perhaps she had believed that setting him up as a prisoner of war, a prisoner she knew the Andorians had no authority to keep, and then letting him escape, would backfire not on her, but on General Thran. He shook his stinging hand limply, as he watched a dark bluish welt begin to form on her beautiful cheek.

"Good one," Zatha said, straightening up from the blow. "But you can do better than that," she taunted him.

Picard made a face. "It'll have to do." She shrugged and tossed him her weapon.

"Just don't kill any of my people on your way down, Picard," she warned him as he ran out of the conference room with one last quick look back.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Will Riker was not the most patient man. He was as quick to anger as he was to laugh, and his moods could change for the better or worse in a matter or moments. He knew that as he was maturing, he was gaining more patience, but at times it was all he could do not to throttle his subordinates.

Above all he expected attention to duty from them, just as the Captain did. It annoyed him that because Captain Picard was such a stickler for adherence to duty, once he was off the bridge, the crew seemed just slightly off their game, just enough to make Riker doubt they were taking him as seriously as they should. LaForge seemed to stare off into space, literally, instead of checking his coordinates, although it was difficult to catch him doing this with his Visor. Data tended to go off on even more tangents when Picard was away, as though he believed Riker was actually interested in subjects such as the mating habits of the slugs native to Andoria. Somewhat thankfully, Data had left the bridge some time ago to assist Yar with her search for Ra'Val.

And right now, his patience was being tested in other ways. Captain Picard had been gone three hours on board the Andorian cruiser and hadn't checked in yet. Meanwhile Chief of Security Natasha Yar had turned the corridors of the ship into a de-militarized zone looking for a mysterious and apparently invisible Vulcan cult leader. Filling in at her post stood Lt. Worf, who seemed to have even less patience than Riker.

Riker looked up as the turbo lift door swished open and in walked Counselor Troi. Crusher had updated him that Troi had been cleared for duty when it appeared that she was recovering from her head wound more quickly than expected. Despite her own troubles, she had given him a pep talk recently, as only she was capable of doing. He was grateful for her presence generally, and especially glad to see that she was feeling better. Things between them had never officially ended as far as he was concerned, but Troi might have seen it differently.

Soon after they had first fallen in love, she had expected more from him at the time than he could provide her. He had just been promoted to Lt. Commander aboard the Potemkin, when she was on Betazed carrying out diplomatic duties for various high powered officials, and things between them became more difficult logistically. Now that they were back aboard the Enterprise, those professional barriers seemed like they should no longer matter, yet somehow they did. All of his old feelings for her flooded back each time he saw her, and he knew there was no way she wasn't aware of it. But, he feared, she no longer felt the same about him.

He nodded at her as she walked down the ramp, and sat down elegantly in her chair. "Counselor," he said, and returned his eyes to the arm of the command chair. Yar's hourly report was streaming in right then. He frowned as he read it and then looked up at Troi with a scowl. "Twenty decks have been searched with no sign of Ra'Val. That's nearly half the ship," he snapped in frustration. His expression brightened as he looked at her. "Can you sense anything, Deanna?" he asked hopefully.

Troi knew she had to become accustomed to people asking her if she could "feel anything" if she were to find a place on board this ship. Even Will who had known Deanna more intimately than anyone except her mother, expected her to use her telepathic skills as frequently as possible. Didn't he remember how difficult it was for her to open hers senses to so many beings at once? Control of her empathic abilities took more discipline than could ever be taught through Starfleet training. At least Will had some understanding of how these things worked, as opposed to Captain Picard, who apparently believed that she could turn her powers on and off like an old fashioned replicator. It was also arguable whether Picard considered her more valuable than an old kitchen replicator at this point.

Picard had no idea how she could be of real benefit to the crew, and she knew he was struggling with her presence still; just as he was struggling with the presence of children, civilians, T'Pel, and Beverly Crusher and her son. For such an apparently solid persona, she was learning he experienced nearly constant inner turmoil, at least where emotional subjects were concerned. A lesser person might have just ceased functioning after some of the heartache he had experienced, but instead he pressed on as though nothing of emotional importance had ever happened to him. Picard had built a wall for reasons most likely related to past traumas. Those kinds of walls sometimes never broke down even with years of counseling. She told herself to be patient with him and the trust would come.

Despite her slight annoyance and fatigue from her concussion recovery, she smiled at Riker. "For the last hour I have been sitting in my quarters doing my own sweep of the ship. A mental sweep, you could say," she added. "It may sound strange to you, Commander, but I do sense a different kind of presence. Different than my own, and different than T'Pel's. The best way I can describe it is that it is…somehow masked."

"And you think this presence could be Ra'Val?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He smiled tightly. "I know it must be difficult, Counselor, but please continue to sweep periodically if you are able to. If you think T'Pel will help you, by all means, please work with her."  
"She is a very powerful telepath," agreed Deanna. "And far more powerful than me. But I sense she is also experiencing barriers to discovering whether Ra'Val is here with us."

"Well he is her brother," said Riker. "I can't believe the Captain is too happy that she—"

"Commander!" shouted Worf suddenly. Riker jerked around in his chair. "The Andorian ship is departing."

The young man filling in at ops turned halfway in his seat. "They are traveling at full impulse power sir."

"Dammit, people, I need to know these kinds of things when their engines are powering up, not when they're leaving us in the dust," snapped Riker.

"Should I fire on the ship, sir," grumbled Worf. "We are still within phaser range for another 30 seconds."

"No!" exclaimed, Riker, hopping up out of the chair. "We're not firing on any ship Captain Picard is on. Pursue them at three quarters impulse just enough to overtake them. What is the Andorian ship's maximum warp capacity?"

"Warp eight, Commander," piped up LaForge. "We'll have no problems running them down if they enter light speed, sir."

"Let me know when we get within transporter range," said Riker. "I want a full sensor sweep for his communicator. We'll get him out of there," he added in a voice quiet but determined.

* * *

About a minute after he left Zatha in the conference room, her subordinates must have found her, judging by the blaring alarms now sounding through the ship. Picard raced through the ship, heart beating wildly, slowing only a few times to duck around a corner when he saw an Andorian crewmember. "I'm getting too old for this," he thought to himself more than once as he climbed down utility ladders and crawled through maintenance tubes in order to avoid trouble and get to the shuttle bay. Luckily for him most of the crew was busy preparing for the trip to Vulcan, although security was clearly on alert. Despite the size of the cruiser, the crew was smaller than that of the Enterprise, and certainly resembled a military force.

He had figured out the settings on the gun Zatha had given him; there appeared to be only two: stun and kill. He had no intention of killing anyone, but if he needed to, he would stun whoever he needed to in order to get off the ship. The problem was how to escape the ship. Zatha had been clever enough to help him stage an escape, but the rest was apparently up to him. As he neared the shuttle bay, he heard shouts. Spinning around, he spotted two tall, wiry Andorians rushing for him from the other end of the hallway, weapons drawn. Instinctively, he ran like hell.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

T'Pel sat in the guest quarters which housed the Vulcan Redeemer children. The children were scattered around the room. Most sat in stony silence waiting for T'Pel to leave them alone.

T'Pel crouched down next to T'Kal, who had become the de facto leader of the Redeemer children after Ja'Nel had fallen into a coma. "T'Kal, tell me, are you not concerned for your friend?" Her question was probing, but her tone was gentle.

The young Vulcan girl looked at her somewhat defiantly, but after a moment she nodded.

"I believe that Ja'Nel will recover," added T'pel. "His mind is damaged, but not broken." The girl seemed to search TPel's face for some bit of truth and then she nodded again slowly.

The girl looked down at her hands. While she was looking away, T'Pel's eyes flitted around the room to the other children until they rested on the smallest boy, Thar, the mechanic. Although he was smaller than the others, his eyes bore a confidence the others lacked. She had already attempted to question him once before and he had stubbornly refused to say anything of substance. As she caught his eye, she noted, and not for the first time, a familiar look in his eyes. Instead of looking away shyly, he continued to stare, seeming to dare her to question him.

Without taking her eyes off Thar, she posed another question to the girl, T'Kal. "Ja'Nel is your brother, is he not? Blood bonds are not easily broken," she added. Thar's eyes narrowed, and then instantly his grey pupils were replaced by a blackness she had seen only once before. It was a though his eyes now represented a mask of sorts, attempting to hide the little boy's soul.

* * *

_The Getaway_

The Andorians stayed on his trail, but he soon found the shuttle bay Zatha had mentioned, and slid inside. The bay appeared to be empty of crew members, and his spirits soared for a moment when his eyes rested on a swift looking little shuttle.

He was yanked back to the gritty reality of the moment, when he heard two sets of feet halt outside the door and then he heard Andorian being spoken in hushed tones. He knew they would try and capture him. It was unlikely that Zatha had given them permission to harm him, but he could not be sure. Her motives were still a mystery to him.

He double-checked the stun setting on the weapon and pressed himself into the wall adjacent to the doorway, trying to calm his breathing, which sounded harsh to his own ears. The next moments were a blur. The Andorians came in one at a time, the larger man stepping in first. Without hesitation, Picard fired the weapon in the air just above the Andorian's head, and as he had hoped, the shock of the blast stunned the man's antennae, throwing off his balance, and sending him spinning to the ground.

The man writhed in obvious pain and shock, but the Captain had little time to feel any remorse. He ducked as the second Andorian entered the room swiftly, swinging a very sharp, very large knife at Picard's chest. Later on he would reflect that perhaps they had not been so concerned about harming him after all. Picard back peddled, just avoiding being sliced, but he felt a jarring in his forearm as the knife connected with the gun, and yanked it violently from his grip.

Forgetting about the gun and not daring to take his eyes off the swinging blade, Picard stepped to the side, just as the Andorian lunged in, and slammed his fist down on the Andorian's head, yanking one of his antennae down and away from his head. The Andorian screamed and followed in the direction of his sensitive antennae, which was being yanked toward the floor. The Andorian flailed his arms as he fell, and as he was still holding the knife, sliced through Picard's right pant leg on his way down. Picard stumbled, picked up the sidearm, and stunned both Andorians as they lay sprawled on the floor. He knew that the knife had just grazed him; since the wound started on his upper inner thigh and worked its way down, he thought better of checking it at that moment, and instead ran for the nearest shuttle.

He ran his hands over the outside of the shuttle door, looking for a handle, a palm print, anything, to get it to open. Finding a small but uniform indentation on the right hand side of the hatch, a thought occurred to him. Examining Zatha's weapon, he saw that a small key-like protrusion on the butt of the weapon appeared to be a good match for the indent on the shuttle door. He plugged it in, and was delighted to hear a hiss of air, and the shuttle door lifted up. He leapt in, and shut the door behind him, clambering into the pilot's seat.

He ran his hands uncertainly over the controls until he found the thrusters and then fired them up. The shuttle suddenly shuddered and he realized with newfound concern that he was being fired upon. Turning the view screen on to target aft, he saw that a new Andorian soldier had entered the shuttle bay and had hoisted some kind of rocket launcher on his shoulder. A green energy beam issued from the oversized weapon and struck the shuttle. "I've got to get the hell out of here before I'm blown out of here," he muttered to himself. He could feel his right leg beginning to burn, but still he chose not to look down. He could not afford the distraction.

Picard saw on the aft view screen that one of the Andorians he had disabled had gotten to his feet and was manning a console. The man was overriding the controls, trying to make sure he couldn't lower the shuttle bay doors. Quickly becoming desperate, Picard told himself to remain calm and searched for an instrument or touch pad he hoped would show him the way.

He found a lever with odd markings overhead and yanked it down hoping for the best. Sure enough, in response a laser cannon slowly extended from the front of the shuttle. As he increased power to the thrusters vertically, the shuttle wavered, taking another hit from the firing Andorians, but he could not afford to put up the shuttle's shields just yet. Gripping the lever and turning it clockwise, the cannon rotated until it was aimed at the outer doors. Grimacing, he flipped a safety lock on the lever, and pressed the fire button. Blue-green pulses emitted from the cannon and burst a very convenient hole through the bay doors.

* * *

Beverly Crusher looked up from her work, as Deanna Troi walked into her office unexpectedly. The Counselor seemed determined to catch her off guard on a fairly regular basis. "My, you are persistent," she thought to herself, and could not help but smile slightly. If Troi read her thoughts, she made no indication that she minded the silent jab.

"Hello, Counselor," said Beverly. "Any sign of my son out there? He was supposed to meet me here after school, but I just got so immersed in busy work that I lost track of time."

Deanna smiled. "No, I'm sorry Beverly, but no, I didn't see him."

Beverly kept a neutral smile planted on her face, as she held her data pad loosely in one hand. She resisted the urge to tap the desk expectantly with the fingers of her other hand. Instead she said "So, what can I do for you, Deanna?"

Deanna smiled. How nice it was to hear someone besides Will use her first name. Progress, she supposed. "I wanted to apologize if I seemed too forward with you the other day. We had barely met and I was questioning your relationship with your son, and the Captain. I overstepped, and I can see how this might have upset you," she added.

Crusher frowned. "Did I seem upset?"

"Yes."

"Well, I certainly didn't mean to be. It's been so busy, really that I haven't had time to think about any of those…things you mentioned."

Troi nodded. "The truth is, most people on Betazed happen to be very assertive. It is an aspect of my personality that helps me to help others confront fears they are not willing to encounter on their own. But I am half human as well," she added.

Crusher raised quizzical eyebrows. "And what does your human side help you with, if I might ask?"

Troi sighed. "Well, it helps me to understand why some humans might not be so receptive to my attempts to counsel them."

"Humans like me, you mean?"

"Humans like you," Troi said with a smile. She opened her mouth to say something else, when the office was suddenly bathed in yellow, and alarms began to blare.

* * *

Lt. Tasha Yar, wiped the sweat from her brow as she backed out of Jeffries Tube # 75, and planted both feet on the deck. She turned to look at her colleague, who was inputting information into his tricorder. "That's it," said Yar. "Last one. Let's mark it," she said, slamming the hatch shut.

Data glanced up from reading his tricorder. He fiddled with the settings and then held the tricorder over the handle of the hatch. Data waved it slowly up and down coating the handle as the instrument emitted an invisible, odorless marking agent that would allow them to track anyone who used the Jeffries tube. The marker would leave an invisible imprint, penetrating even gloved hands, and allow Yar to track the individual anywhere on the ship. Since the crew had been notified that the tubes were off limits for the next few days, except in cases of emergency, the only people entering the tube would be people not authorized to be there.

Yar gestured to one of her security officers. "Marks, over here," she shouted. The young man jogged over and handed Yar a pad, which she began to study it earnestly.

Data closed up the tricorder with a snap. "Lt., we have finished our investigation of the Jeffries Tubes, and we have found no evidence of Ra'Val. In addition, you have accounted for all civilian crew, Starfleet personnel, as well as the Vulcan children, and no other humanoid persons have been detected. The ship's sensors have confirmed these findings," observed Data.

"That's right," said Yar, not looking up from her report.

"The chances of an adult Vulcan male being able to avoid detection on board the Enterprise are—"

"Very slim?" said Yar. "I agree. But the Captain demanded that we carry out a search, and that's what I've done. I'm nothing if not thorough, Data," she added with a tough smile.

"You seem to suggest that despite the futility of this exercise, you will carry it through," observed Data.

Yar's smile faded. "Was there ever any question? I'm under orders," said Yar.

"I am curious," said Data. "If Captain Picard gave you an order you considered…unwise, would you still carry it out?"

The young woman's eyes narrowed. "Without question! Wouldn't you?"

Data nodded. "In almost every scenario, yes. However, of course if the Captain gave an order which conflicted with the Prime Directive, or put the crew unreasonably at-risk-"

"That would never happen," snapped Yar, crossing her arms over her chest.

Data flinched. "How can you be certain? Although the probability may be low based on a review of Captain Picard's professional history…"

"Data, that would never happen," repeated Tasha. "Captain Picard is a great man."

Had Data been human, he might have picked up on Yar's slightly threatening expression. But Data was not human, and he had nothing to offer in response but a puzzled frown.

* * *

Commander Zatha stood still, hands clasped behind her back on the bridge of her ship. She watched as a tiny greenish dart appeared on the view screen. As it shot clear of the cruiser its familiar twin engines fired and it sped away in the direction of the Enterprise. Picard, it appeared, had stolen her personal shuttlecraft.

"Commander, the human is escaping," shouted Lt. Hakka, whirling around in his seat.

Commander Zatha glanced from the view screen to her subordinate disdainfully. Her antennae twitched. "That is quite obvious. We have our orders, Lt. Hakka. Set course for Vulcan."

"You were also given an order to hold the human in custody," said Hakka, eyes fixed on his station this time.

Commander Zatha pointed an elegant finger in Lt. Hakka's direction. "Relieve this officer of his post. Take him to the brig," she snapped. Guards moved in quickly, and grabbed Hakka by his upper arms, roughly pulling him from his seat.

The look on Hakka's face showed only resignation at his fate. Insubordination was not tolerated in the Andorian military, and he was not surprised by Zatha's reaction to his words. But he did not regret uttering them, for there was something very strange about Zatha's behavior. He knew he was not the only officer who questioned how one of the fiercest Andorian warriors could have been overcome by a human on her own ship—while armed.

"If anyone else wishes to question my authority you may join him!" Zatha turned to glare at her officers. "Warp seven."

"Aye sir, warp seven," said the woman now manning the helm.

* * *

"Commander!" shouted Lt. Worf from tactical, "An Andorian shuttle is incoming."

"On screen," said Riker, pushing himself up from the Captain's chair and walking forward. He felt his heart begin to pound, as adrenaline coursed through him.

"It is approaching at a high velocity, commander," Worf warned, leaning over the railing at tactical.

Riker didn't bother to shoot Worf the "no kidding" look he wanted to. The fact was the shuttle was barreling in so fast there was little time to even think. But Riker was a quick thinker. He was in this position for a reason. And while Worf would always assume hostile intent on the part of an incoming ship (perhaps that would serve him well as a security chief someday) Riker had to think ahead of the current situation. He had to anticipate every negative and positive scenario within seconds.

Riker focused his attention on Commander Data, who had just glided onto the bridge and lid into his the ops station. "Data, life form readings?""Sensors show a humanoid life form sir." He paused as his hands flew over the console. "The shuttle's shields are activated and interfering with our sensors, Commander. It is impossible to tell if the pilot is Andorian or human, sir", the android added as though reading Riker's mind.

Riker glanced at the view screen again. The Andorian battleship was preparing to exit the system, and its crew didn't seem the least bit concerned about the missing shuttle. Was it an expendable Andorian sent to distract them or worse yet a suicidal maniac determined to take the lives of the Enterprise crew? There was another possibility of course. If it was Picard he was behaving like a man pursued, that was for sure. And if it was Picard, they wouldn't be able to beam him out with his shields up. He squinted as suddenly there was a flash of blinding light, and the Andorian battle cruiser was gone.

"The Andorian ship has entered warp, sir," Data said calmly. "Andorian shuttle is at one thousand meters and closing."

"Yellow alert!"

"He's determined, whoever he is," said LaForge, keeping his voice calmer than he felt.

"Hail him!"

"Commander, he's not responding to our hails," said Worf.

Riker's mouth was set in a grim line as he stared at the view screen. "Bring the ship around and open the aft shuttle bay doors," he shouted abruptly.

LaForge complied quickly. "Shuttle bay doors open, sir."

"He's coming in too fast and we're going to have a big problem inside shuttle bay one, sir!" warned LaForge.

"Activate the emergency damping system in the shuttle bay," Riker ordered.

"Activated," reported Data. An energy web deployed in the shuttle bay was designed to slow the kinetic energy of incoming vessels with excessive speed. It was a last resort.

"Damn it," Riker whispered, unable to tear his gaze from the view screen.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

How had he ended up in the shuttle bay? Well here is how it happened. Wesley Crusher was impulsive. His mind was ever active, and most of the time it was focused on working out scientific equations. Yet he was flighty. At any given moment, his brilliance could become a hindrance; which was what happened when he was released from school that afternoon. When he left school, the yellow alert was already sounding throughout the ship, and instead of immediately heading to visit with his mother in sick bay he hurried to a computer wall panel.

"Computer, why has the ship gone to yellow alert?" he asked.

"The ship has detected a potential threat," said the computer, vaguely.

"What is the nature of the threat?" he said, trying to sound more commanding, in the hopes that the computer might take his question more seriously the second time.

"The information you are seeking is available to authorized personnel only."

Wesley sighed loudly.

"I am sorry, I did not understand your inquiry," said the computer.

Wesley thought for a moment. "Computer, have any sections of the ship been restricted due to the yellow alert?"

"Yes," said the computer. "Shuttle Bay One is currently available only to—"

"Authorized personnel," finished Wesley. "I know." He smiled, having obtained at least enough information to posit a theory. His smile faded, as he considered the possibilities. The fact that the alert level was yellow and not red meant the ship was not under attack, at least not yet.

Captain Picard was currently off ship, and tensions with the Andorians were increasing. What if the yellow alert had something to do with Captain Picard's negotiations with Commander Zatha? "Computer, are there any ships besides the Enterprise currently orbiting the Andorian moon?"

"Yes," said the computer. "An Andorian Blade Class shuttle."

Alarm bells began to sound off in Wesley's head and a chill went up his spine. "And is Captain Picard currently aboard the Enterprise?"

"Captain Picard is not aboard the Enterprise," said the computer.

Not only was the Andorian battle cruiser no longer in the sector, but the only other ship nearby was a shuttle, presumably launched from that cruiser, and Captain Picard was still not on board the Enterprise. Wesley turned in the direction of the shuttle bay before he even finished his thought. He knew the odds were that Captain Picard was in that shuttle, and that Commander Riker was trying to bring him in to Shuttle Bay One. But something must have gone wrong.

He had to help. He had to show the Captain that he could be useful, that he could be a valuable part of the crew. He tried not to think of what his mother would say. He paused, and turned back, typing something quickly into the computer panel before running down the corridor.

* * *

Beverly Crusher stormed onto the bridge, with Deanna Troi trailing behind. "Where is Captain Picard? I need to speak with him," demanded Crusher, stopping abruptly next to Commander Riker.

Riker turned in annoyed surprise and looked from Deanna back to Crusher. Troi's normal post was here on the bridge, but Crusher should have been in sick bay, particularly given the high level of alert. Instinctively he rubbed his chin in an attempt to appear calmer than he was. "Captain Picard isn't here," he said in a measured tone, turning his attention back to the view screen. "And your place right now, Doctor, is in sick bay."

Crusher did not move a muscle.

Deanna sat down slowly in her usual seat and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap carefully as she looked on with some trepidation.

"I just found out my son is in Shuttle Bay One and it's been sealed off. No one is allowed in or out," Crusher was speaking so quickly she barely paused for a breath. "Now if I could just _speak_ to Captain Picard—"

"Status, Mr. Data," shouted Riker.

"The damping field is still at only forty percent, Commander," replied Data calmly.

"Boost it, then," ordered Riker.

"Attempting to divert power," said Worf.

"Still coming in too damn fast," LaForge muttered under his breath. "Sir, if he enters the bay at that speed the tractor beam emitter in the bay won't be able to hold him. It is not strong enough," warned Geordi.

Riker noted that the typical helmsman wasn't also an expert on tractor beam emitters. He'd served with LaForge briefly on the Hood, but hadn't interacted with the young man enough to know what he was about. It was clear already that LaForge had some hidden talents. "Data?"

"Lt. LaForge is correct. Not only is the shuttle bay tractor beam emitter not strong enough to control the craft, but the damping field's effectiveness in slowing the craft will be negligible."

"I hate to ask, but does that mean…" Troi trailed off.

"At its current velocity the shuttle will be destroyed and the explosion could cause significant damage to the Enterprise, Counselor," Data clarified.

"How many personnel are in the shuttle bay right now?"

"Lt. O'Brien and…one other humanoid. Only one combadge registers, sir," said Data.

"That's my _son_, Commander," snapped Crusher. "I know it's him. He sent me a message." In fact, she had been so upset when she went to her quarters that she hadn't seen a blinking message light on her personal computer screen. It wasn't until she had returned to sick bay to find the message waiting for her. It had said simply: "Mom, went to shuttle bay 1 to help with emergency. Please don't worry. Love, Wesley."

Riker shouting at the crew brought her back to the present. "I don't care who is in there, just get them out of there. Now!"

"The malfunctioning damping field is causing interference," said LaForge. "It's not safe to transport anyone out of there, sir."

"Can you communicate with O'Brien's combadge?"

"No sir," said Data. "The interference Lt. LaForge referred to is disrupting our communications."

"Send O'Brien a message and tell him to evacuate and take Wesley with him."

"Aye sir."

"Commander," said Data. "If the shuttle pilot does not correct his trajectory, the shuttle will collide with the ship's hull."

At this point Riker doubted the pilot was aware of what he was doing, judging by the way the shuttle was approaching.

"I can adjust the pitch of the Enterprise to compensate," reported LaForge.  
"Do it," snapped Riker.

"The shuttle is beginning to spin, Commander," said Worf. "It will not be a clean entry."

"If the shuttle hits the Enterprise hull at its current velocity, it will be destroyed, commander."

"Not necessarily; his shields are still up." Suddenly Riker had an idea. There was a small area between the shield barrier and the hull. "If he bounces off our hull we can use the shields to slow his speed down enough that we can engage the tractor beam emitter and bring the shuttle in. Raise shields."

"Commander, our shields are inoperative!" Worf looked as though he was about to cave in the tactical station with his fists.

"Worf is right, sir, we've got an energy drain from the main shield generator," said LaForge.

"Draining to where?"

"Graviton energy from the shield generator is being diverted to Shuttle Bay One," responded Data.

"What in the hell?"

"It's too late," said Troi, eyes wide and staring at the view screen. She said what everyone else was thinking. They all watched helplessly as there was a white flash and the shuttle seemed to vanish.

Riker suddenly realized he had been holding his breath. He doubted that he was the only one. "Report," he said. His voice sounded mechanical to his own ears.

In contrast, and somewhat ironically, Data's response sounded authentically surprised. "The hull and inner shuttle bay are intact, sir. The Andorian shuttle is now inside the bay, but it is enveloped in an energy field. Shield power is still minimal. Sensors are now showing three life forms inside the shuttle bay. One is very faint."

"Captain Picard," Riker murmured. Beverly Crusher's head snapped up to look at Riker. A slow look of unease passed over her face.

She had been so intent on making sure her son had been safe, she hadn't given another thought to the identity of the shuttle pilot. She brought a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God."

"LaForge you have the conn. Data, Worf, Doctor, you're with me," said Riker, running to the turbo lift.

* * *

O'Brien was in awe. The boy had done it. He had somehow boosted the energy to the damping field slowing the velocity of the shuttle to a more manageable speed. Simultaneously he had boosted power to the shuttle bay's smaller tractor beam emitter, creating a very powerful tractor beam inside a very closed space. The Andorian shuttle now hung inertly about two meters over the floor of the landing area.

"Lowering it down now," said O'Brien, standing at the controls. Slowly the shuttle, which was enveloped in a kind of blue energy hammock, lowered to the deck with a clanging noise. O'Brien pulled his phaser and walked swiftly toward the shuttle. He had no intention of being ambushed by an Andorian after all they had just been through. He glanced behind him, feeling an anxious set of eyes. It was the teenage wonder. "Listen kid, I have no idea who you are, but I'm impressed. Whoever is in there owes you his life," he said nodding toward the shuttle.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Vulcan -The Past

"Brother, we have been walking for some time. What did you want to show me?"

"Just a little further," said Ra'Val. Her brother walked ahead of her, seemingly tireless, up the mountain. Normally he tired more quickly than she, as he was frailer than she was. They shared many differences, despite the fact that they were twins, an unusual occurrence for Vulcans. Their twin status made them minor celebrities in their desert hometown, which meant their neighbors watched them with guarded curiosity, if not actual suspicion.

They were twelve, an important age for Vulcans, as logic training was now intensified and emphasized over everything else. Children were expected to take on responsibilities that would lead them into adulthood in a few years. Emotional outbursts or other dramatic episodes were no longer expected or tolerated. T'Pel was somewhat typical in this way, but her brother was different, a fact that she knew concerned her parents.

"We are here," said Ra'Val. He turned around at that moment, as he reached the peak of the small mountain. The summit was flat, and on the other side, a sheer cliff. The sun was beginning to set, and with its departure the desert chill was quickly moving in. The fading light, along with the wind whipping through Ra'Val's shoulder length hair—hair he refused to cut, made for an arresting view. Ra'Val closed his eyes and held his arms out. Was he meditating? T'Pel wondered. Then he began to do something strange, something that had been buried shortly after their first few years of life. He laughed and didn't stop laughing.

T'Pel watched him carefully. "Ra'Val, your actions are most illogical," she said, which she knew was the appropriate response to this kind of behavior.

"I do not care, it feels good!" He continued to laugh, but it sounded harsh now, and forced. Suddenly he ran to the edge of the cliff and spun around, arms wide.

"Feelings are illogical," said T'Pel, calmly. She walked forward to within reach of her brother, should he slip.

"My sister, do you not understand? Up here we can be free of the others. We can laugh and even cry if we need to."

"I do not understand, and I do not need to laugh or cry," she replied. "Ra'Val, you are at risk of falling if you do not bring your emotions under control. Our parents will be concerned if we do not return home soon."

"But they will not be concerned enough to be angry will they? They are never angry. But I can be angry! Do you want to see?" His brow creased and his eyes began to turn even darker than their normal dark brown. At that moment, Ra'Val did slip, and T'Pel leapt forward to grasp his arm. Somehow she grabbed his hand, but they both went over the edge and began to fall rapidly.

"No!" screamed Ra'Val, and suddenly they stopped their descent. They hung there, hands still joined, in mid-air. She looked at her brother's face, and saw a strangeness she had never seen before. His eyes were filled with blackness. Slowly, under this unknown power, his power, they safely floated back down to the bottom of the mountain. When they reached the foot of the cliff, she stared into his face and watched as the blackness in his eyes disappeared gradually. Suddenly, he smiled at her and hugged her close. "I love you," he whispered. She uncharacteristically returned his embrace, and somehow knew it would be the last time.

* * *

**Enterprise-2364**

"Mom, I think he's waking up!"

The prickly warmth started in his toes and slowly worked his way up his calves, thighs, and groin. By the time he felt it reach his chest he gasped involuntarily. The air was cool in his lungs, almost painful; still it was welcome. For some reason his eyes would not open. He coughed.

"Okay Wes, move back a bit please," a clear voice said. Then, "He's awake." And then there were footsteps and soft laughter from several voices nearby. Were they laughing at him? Why couldn't he see?

He blinked but still could not see. The peculiar warmth, which had paused at his collarbone, had now entered his throat. He took another breath and it was easier this time. The warm sensation spread through his face, and when it hit his ears he felt a pop and the voices were suddenly louder and clearer. He blinked, but a grey veil still seemed to hang over his eyes.

"Some kind of bladed weapon pierced your lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, Captain," said the same clear voice that had spoken before. "The blade must have been coated with some kind of poison."

"The knife," he whispered. "The Andorian soldier…."

"Sir, you should rest," came a deeper voice etched with concern. "The details can wait until you're well."

"Andorians have been known to use poisonous agents on their ritual blades," growled an even deeper voice. "Poison is a coward's best friend," he heard the growl again.

"I introduced a powerful neural stimulant into your bloodstream, Captain. We were able to reverse the paralysis completely. But I need to keep you here overnight to make certain your recovery will be as smooth as possible."

He blinked again, and the world began to become less cloudy. He could see color now. Shapes were clearer. He remembered now. He was on the Enterprise, and this was his crew. A sudden realization overcame him. He tried to sit up, but it felt as though a weight was still pressing down on him. He forced himself up and rested on his elbows. The air was now cool on his chest.

"We need to proceed to Vulcan," he gasped, coughing again. "The Andorians are planning an attack."

A shock of auburn hair moved near his side and leaned over him. A cool hand pressed against his shoulder and reluctantly he lay down. He could feel his forehead crease in frustration. His body had not yet caught up to his mind, and he still had some difficulty moving quickly.

"We know, Captain." It was Riker. "Admiral Imhoff contacted us about thirty minutes ago. We've been ordered to Vulcan at Warp ten to head off the Andorian fleet. And good news, sir; we will be joined by the _USS Horatio_. Captain Keel has already promised to host a poker game of course, after we, as he said 'clear up this little Andorian misunderstanding', sir."

Picard made a face and grunted. The tall man's face was coming into view now. "You are a poker player, then, Riker?" he murmured.

"Oh yes, sir." There was no mistaking the beaming grin now.

"Alright," said Dr. Crusher, addressing the others. "The Captain needs to rest, and so now if you would all afford him the opportunity…" Riker smiled and nodded to Worf and they left for the bridge. Crusher turned to find her son still standing there.

He was waiting, no doubt for some kind of acknowledgment from Captain Picard. Unfortunately, Captain Picard still had trouble seeing and his memory of the shuttle incident no doubt ended prior to entering the shuttle bay. He wouldn't remember Wesley's role in bringing the ship in safely. No matter; when he was feeling better, he would want to know what happened, and she hoped he would talk to her son then.

"Wesley," she said with an affectionate smile. "Why don't you go and get some rest yourself," she suggested, but it was more of an order. She opened her arms to him, and somewhat reluctantly he walked into them. She tried not to think about how close she had come to losing him this afternoon. And Jean-Luc. But, they were both safe now, she reminded herself. There was no use dwelling on what had already happened, and certainly not on what could have happened. She kissed Wesley on the cheek and squeezed his hand before he left, now thoroughly embarrassed.

* * *

Beverly turned back to Picard, who appeared to now be dozing slightly. She smiled to herself. Wesley would be glad to know the Captain had missed seeing him hug his mother. She dimmed the lights in the room and walked over to the recovery bed. It seemed that for the first time since she had known him, he looked peaceful and relaxed. Granted he was in a semi-chemical induced state, but rest was rest, she reasoned. She resisted the sudden unexpected urge to reach out and touch him as he slept. She sat down in a nearby chair and pulled up his chart on her data pad. Nearly all of his vital signs had normalized.

"I feel very weak." She glanced up at the sound of his voice, still hoarse, but working.

She remained seated nearby. "That's normal, Captain. Your body is gaining strength by the minute though. All things considered, you are headed for a full recovery."

There was a pause. "And I'm not wearing any damn clothes," rumbled Picard, slinking back under the sheet.

Crusher strained to remain composed and not laugh. "No, sir, you're not wearing any clothes. Would you like some?"

"Of course I would," he said sourly. "I can't very well command a ship in this pathetic state."

Crusher sighed. There were so many things she could have said right then, but thought better of it. "Captain, you are supposed to be resting right now. You'll have plenty of time to command later on. Besides, resting doesn't require any clothes at all."

Picard shifted on the bed. He detested hospitals, but had to admit he didn't mind the company. He cleared his throat and said "up". The bed tilted up until he was in a more comfortable sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, now mostly clear, but burning slightly.

"How much do you remember, Jean-Luc? Do you remember how you were wounded?"

"My mind is still a bit hazy, I am afraid," he began slowly. "Something went wrong….I was trying to escape the Andorian ship…when I reached the hangar, I fought two guards. One of them had a really nasty looking knife. I knocked him down and I suppose it grazed me, on his way down."

He looked under the sheet, suddenly alarmed. He had avoided looking at the wound before, frankly because it had been so close to his groin area, that at the time he just didn't want to know. Besides there really hadn't been enough time to worry. His priority had been escape.

Crusher put her data pad down next to her on a small table. "The wound was reasonably superficial, but it did nick the femoral nerve, as I mentioned before. Had it been deeper, you might not have survived. And don't worry, Captain, everything is intact," she added noticing his queasy look.

He looked away. "Of course," he murmured, and then fell silent, pulling the covers up over his chest.

Crusher smiled awkwardly, suddenly sharing his discomfiture. She slapped her hands on her knees and stood up quickly. "Well, Jean-Luc, I think it would be best if I leave you to rest. I'll be in my office, so please just call if you need me."

His eyes followed her as she left his side and then disappeared. Just for a moment he found himself back years ago, and he felt the delicious aching of wanting something, someone he couldn't have. As he began to doze off again, the thought crossed his mind that after all he had just been through, it might be time to finally live in the present.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"What you did was completely irresponsible and dangerous! You risked your own life and the lives of this crew, and I want to know why," Riker demanded.

Wesley stood in Picard's ready room, head bowed, which made it difficult to keep his shoulders from slouching. He knew he should be standing at attention, but he was terrified. He scuffed his foot on the carpeting and wished he were someplace else.

"Mr. Crusher, look at me, and answer my question," snapped Riker. It was killing him to yell at a teenager, but it had to be said, and the Captain wasn't around to do it himself.

Wesley's chin snapped up and he attempted to stand up straighter, although he couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at the first officer. "I—I saw a problem sir, and I guess I just knew how to solve it."

Just knew? Riker doubted more than a few other people on board the ship were capable of doing what this boy had figured out in just minutes. Riker folded his arms over his chest. "Is that the only reason?"

Wesley looked down again. "I…knew Captain Picard was in trouble, and I wanted to help him. I wanted to show him…I don't know…" he trailed off self-consciously.

Riker rubbed his chin and sat down on the edge of the desk. So, young Mr. Crusher had been attempting to impress the Captain. He felt for the boy. Will had difficult issues with his own father, who had been emotionally if not physically absent during Riker's youth. In addition, he recalled the fact that Wesley didn't have a father, and that his father had died under Picard's command—a fact he had learned while embarrassing himself on the shuttlecraft just days earlier. It seemed he and Wesley had a few things in common, one of which was a desire to impress the captain.

There were a number of complicated issues there that had now no doubt come to the surface by Wesley seeing Picard again. Riker had his own complicated relationship with his father, and he could relate to what seemed to be Wesley's longing for a father figure. It made it very difficult to be upset with the young man.

Riker sighed. "Wes… it's hard for me to admit this, but I've never been prouder of anyone I've served with, than I am of you." Wesley broke out in a spontaneous grin, before struggling to become serious again. Riker continued. "Your ability to re-route the energy from the shields was ingenious, you kept a cool head, and most importantly you saved Captain Picard's life and possibly the lives of crew members who might have been harmed had that shuttle come in at full speed."

He stood up and put a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "But Wes, as capable as you may be you're a civilian…you're not a member of Starfleet. You can't make a decision again like that without consulting with me or Captain Picard first. Is that understood?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again, I promise."

Riker smiled and let go of his shoulder. "Good. Now, Captain Picard has asked to see you. He's still in recovery, but you can go and see him after class today."

Wesley's smile faded and he turned pale. He had never been alone with Captain Picard, and after his experience with Riker, he was not keen on finding out how upset the Captain was with him. "Uh, but sir?"

Riker knew what Wesley was thinking, but shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Crusher. When you make adult decisions, you've got to answer for them like an adult. Dismissed."

* * *

San Francisco, Earth 2345

Picard squinted in the early morning sunlight. Breathing heavily from his run, he stooped and put his hands on his knees. The San Francisco air was chilly, and his breath released in quick little clouds of vapor. He had won the two-man race, but could take little joy in it, since Jack seemed to be in a completely different world, and oblivious to the shame of losing. The truth was, Jack had practically forced him to come on shore leave, and now that they were on Earth, Jack seemed to be in some kind of a daze. He seemed thoroughly distracted. "Jack, what's going on? Don't you care that you just lost—badly?" Jean-Luc said half-jokingly. He sat down heavily on the gravel track, and leaned backward on his hands. He dug the heels of his sneakers into the track absent-mindedly.

"Hell no, why should I? You always win," Jack laughed and flopped himself down on the grass, still wet with dew. Chest heaving from exertion he lay staring up at the sky. They were quiet for a few more minutes. Suddenly Jack clapped his palms over his eyes. "Okay, here it is. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner, but I met the most beautiful girl a few months ago, and I can't stop thinking about her," he said quickly.

"Jack, that's wonderful. I'm happy for you," he said getting to his feet and brushing off his shorts. Picard shrugged inwardly. He certainly wasn't upset that Jack hadn't told him sooner. Jean-Luc didn't tell Jack much about his own personal life, unless Jack asked, or as happened more frequently, Walker forced the information out of him. He thought the conversation was over, but Jack kept it going.

Jack sat up and then rose to his feet. "Remember when Walker invited us to his engagement party, and you backed out?"

"I didn't back out…" Jean-Luc protested as they began walking. "Captain Horan assigned me to oversee the retro-fit of the Stargazer—"

"Because Commander Warren didn't want to do it himself, yes I remember," said Jack with a sly smile. "The fact is, you didn't want to go."

Picard took a drink from his water bottle. "Jack, I'm having a hard time getting exhilarated every time Walker announces another marriage engagement. You know when I first met Walker about six years ago he was already on his way to getting divorced? And to be honest with you I have no idea what number wife he was on at that time."

Jack laughed. "Jean-Luc, when are you going to get that it's not just about your career? Your personal life is just as important—certainly more important than any damn retrofit. In a few years you'll be thirty. Don't you ever think about settling down?"

Picard stared at his friend with a baffled expression. "Weren't we talking about you?"

Jack laughed again and shook his head. "Yeah. Well, Walker was really disappointed you weren't there. Aside from you missing his party, he said he had someone he had wanted you to meet, but…lucky me, I met her first. Maybe that's why I didn't mention it to you sooner…."

Jack studied his friend's face, but there was no discernible disappointment or envy in Jean-Luc's expression, so he continued. "I want to introduce you in a few days; I just want it to be the right time. She's really busy with school right now and doesn't have a lot of free time."

"She's at the Academy?"

"Yes, but she's already been accepted to Starfleet Medical School. She's going to be a doctor, Jean-Luc, and she's brilliant. I can't even describe how I feel about her. But when you meet her, you'll see what I mean."

* * *

He awoke, and at first had no idea where he was. He had been dreaming of the past again. All those years ago, nearly twenty to be accurate, he had enjoyed the company of his best friend. Now those images and sounds, which had seemed so real faded again as he lay in a recovery room in sickbay on his new ship. He had been poisoned and temporarily paralyzed by an Andorian weapon and despite feeling better had not yet been cleared for duty. He picked up a book and began reading, when he heard a light knock at the entranceway. He looked up to see that Doctor Crusher's son was paying him a visit.

"You asked to see me, Captain?" Wesley walked hesitantly into the room. The lights were much dimmer than in the classroom from which he had just come. He blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust.

"Yes, Wesley", said Picard beckoning him in. "Please come in."  
Wesley tried to hide his anxiety as he approached the Captain's bedside. It was an oppressive sensation, despite the fact that Picard was perhaps at his least intimidating at the moment. The Captain, Wesley noticed for the first time that sitting up in bed in hospital clothes, the Captain appeared pale and gaunt, his wiry strength clearly depleted. Yet somehow the intimidation remained. He remembered Riker's words and steeled himself.

When Wesley moved to Picard's bedside he stopped short and fiddled with his school memo pad which he held in front of him. He clamped his mouth shut aware that it was hanging open slightly.  
Picard gestured for him to sit. "Please, do sit down Wesley" he said in what was possibly his most gentle voice. Finally Wesley sat down rather stiffly.

They were both silent for a few moments. Picard was the first to speak. He cleared his throat. "Wesley...Commander Riker has explained to me that you performed a rather impressive bit of engineering down in shuttle bay one."

His words came out in a flood. "I am so sorry sir; I swear I will never do anything like that again. It was a really stupid, stupid decision and I promise—"

"Wesley, please," Picard winced and held up his hand. "Wesley you saved my life. I am indebted to you."

"Oh," said Wesley, face reddening. He sat back in his seat, attempting to calm himself. He didn't know what else to say. He hadn't expected the Captain to be so…understanding.

"Wesley, I'm sure that Commander Riker has already spoken to you about the need for you to be more prudent in the future, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Wesley, feeling as though there was a lump in his throat.

"Excuse me," said Picard as he picked up a glass of water on the bedside table and took a few sips. As he set the glass down again, he folded his hands in his lap, grimacing.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, I am fine." He cleared his throat. "You know, Wesley, the ability to engineer a tractor beam out of three different ship's systems is an unusual talent. Have you ever done anything like this before?"

Wesley hesitated, not sure if this was a trap. If he said yes, would the Captain be happy with him, or angry? He decided honesty was the only way. "Um, sort of sir; I mean not on the Enterprise. I boosted the efficiency of the master computer at Starfleet Medical."

"I see. And how long have you been able to do this kind of thing?"

"Well I've always enjoyed building things, sir. You know to solve problems, or even just for fun." He made a face, regretting his choice of words, not wanting to sound silly. It was hard for him to imagine Captain Picard having anything resembling "fun".

Picard smiled slightly. He sat forward and reached around to a small object on the table stand. He palmed it and handed it to Wesley who examined it closely. It was a Starfleet badge, and turning it over he saw it was equipped with full communication capabilities. He frowned and looked up at the Captain.

"I had Mr. Data design it for your personal use. Not an official Starfleet appointment to be sure, but as you can see, it's fully functional," said Picard. "And the next time the ship is in distress and you get a bright idea, I expect you to use it to contact Commander Riker _first_. And of course, in times of trouble, it can't hurt to let the Chief Medical Officer know where you are," he added.

Wesley swallowed. "Thank you sir," he said, voice wavering. He still held the badge tightly in his hand. Picard pushed himself out of bed and stood up. Taking the badge from Wesley, he carefully attached it to the upper left side of the boy's shirt. He gave it a slight pat to make sure it would not fall off and then stood back.

"Very good then," he said approvingly, and sat back down on the bed. Wesley was staring at him, apparently speechless. Picard resisted the urge to send the boy away at this point. He knew his inclination to do so was based on his own general discomfort around children, not anything Wesley had done, so he decided to change the subject.

"What else do you enjoy during your free time Wesley?" To his own ears the question sounded slightly strange, so he decided to try and re-phrase it, when something else suddenly came to mind. He hesitated, not sure if he should go down this road or not. But something compelled him. "You know, your father and I used to go running sometimes. I don't know if you enjoy any kind of sports, but if you are ever interested, I find I sometimes run better with a partner, and-"

Wesley was floored. "Wow that sounds awesome! Sir," he added quickly.

Picard sighed, feeling a strange sense of relief. "Good," he said simply. Not sure what else to say, he sat back against the pillows and tapped his fingers on his chest offhandedly.

"Captain, may I ask you a question?"

Picard looked slightly wary, but nodded.

"The day of Dad's funeral—do you remember how much it was raining?"

Picard looked up and into Wesley's eyes and something closely associated with guilt tightened in his chest. "Yes, I do," admitted Picard softly.

"I don't know if you saw me watching you, but I saw you walk away into the rain."

"Wesley, I don't know what to say." Picard folded his hands in his lap, feeling a familiar desire to withdraw into himself. But he realized that he could not do that with Wesley. The least he owed the boy was honesty, even if it was just to listen.

"It kept raining after you left, and to me it seemed like it didn't stop for days. You know what it's like when you're a kid," he clarified. He paused and looked at his hands. "Up until that day, I was so afraid, every time you would visit. I don't know maybe it was your voice. Mom tells me Dad used to laugh because I always used to hide when you visited. But when I saw you leave that day, I wished for the first time that you would come back. Maybe if you came back, then so would Dad."

Picard shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"When Mom came back in the house, everyone had gone, and it was just us two. Her face was soaking wet and I asked her if she was crying. She said…she said, "No, Wes, it's only the rain."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"For an officer who disobeyed my direct order, you seem quite smug, Zatha. I could have your head, you know."

Commander Zatha sat stiffly in her personal office, on her ship, the _Ishran_. She was facing off, so to speak, with General Thran, whose head and shoulders appeared as a hologram on her desk. "I told you, sir, the Starfleet captain escaped. He was quite capable, despite his being human," she said.

The hologram's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you are too smug for an officer who was bested by her own prisoner!"

Commander Zatha resisted the urge to remind her superior that Picard had actually been her guest, before Thran had ordered her to imprison him. They were not at war with Starfleet, and she had no desire to see the entire Federation ripped apart because Thran and other bureaucrats like him were stupid and greedy for power. However, she was very smug, she admitted it. "My personality flaws are my own," replied Zatha. "Sir," she added.

"The result of Captain Picard's _escape_ is that he has reunited with his ship which is now on its way to Vulcan," said General Thran.

"I am not concerned about Picard, General. I am concerned about the Vulcan Defense Force, which is amassing as we speak. Their small craft are very swift, like knives."

"But your ship, all our ships are like hammers, Zatha. You have but to crush them where they stand before they draw their knives."

Zatha sat back in her chair. The metaphors were starting to bother her. "Yes, General," she said simply.

* * *

"Captain, we are approaching the rendezvous point with the _Horatio_," Riker's voice announced via the communications panel.

Picard sat up abruptly in his hospital bed. He had been drifting off. As much as he wanted to get back to work he knew he was still not one hundred percent. More than anything he felt fatigued. "Understood, Commander," he said trying to keep the grogginess out of his voice. "Please invite Captain Keel aboard so that we can meet before proceeding to Vulcan," he ordered.

"Aye sir."

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely to no one in particular.

"0700 hours," the computer replied serenely.

Picard sat back and rubbed his eyes. In order to get out of recovery and back on the bridge, he knew that he would need Dr. Crusher's permission. Would she be willing to give it, he wondered? The first step was to stop looking so damned pathetic. Perhaps that would help to convince her that he was well enough and fit for duty. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Yawning and stretching his body, he was amazed at how stiff he was, just having been in bed for two days. He needed a warm shower. There was an odd partial numbness that was centered below the belt, and he decided for now he would do his best to ignore it.

Heading to the cramped bathroom, he shed his hospital pajamas and stepped into the sonic shower. As the warm waves rushed over him, he actually began to feel his body relax a bit. Opening his eyes to avoid falling asleep again he examined his arms and chest. There were a few minor bruises that would fade completely over the next day. He finally looked down at his right thigh where the Andorian had grazed him with the knife. A long thin blue-ish ragged line was still etched in his skin. He poked at it, and found it to be tender but not painful, although an uncomfortable tingle persisted. Realizing he had been in the shower for longer than he had intended, he turned it off, and stepped out onto the cold floor. Finding a towel and wrapping it around his waist he shuffled out into the recovery room.

He supposed he really should not have been surprised. Walker Keel stood with his back to him, examining the book Picard had been reading. Walker turned around with a quizzical expression on his face. "Jean-Luc, really? '_Archeological Methodology During the Twenty-Second Century_?' No wonder you are still in recovery; you're slowly boring yourself to death." He tossed the book back on the bed.

Picard sighed and walked toward his friend. He snatched the book off the bed and placed it carefully on the table. "When I ordered Riker to set up a meeting, Walker, I didn't mean in my hospital room," he said with some annoyance. He looked around for his uniform but it was nowhere to be found.

"Well, I told Riker I would find you myself, and he didn't seem to mind. Looks like you're going to have a fine crew." He paused. "Have I mentioned I am very happy to see you alive, my friend?" said Walker with a smile. Picard could not help but return the smile, even though he was still irritated.

"Yes, and I am very glad to be alive," said Picard. Still not seeing his clothes anywhere, he adjusted his towel and sat down on a chair. "Why is there no replicator in this room?" he muttered. He stood up again as it just occurred to him that Dr. Crusher or her staff would be looking in on him soon, and he needed to get dressed beforehand.

"Replicator?" said Walker. "Why? Are you hungry?"

"No…I'm looking for my uniform," he replied testily, looking under the bed. "And if it's not here, it would have been just as acceptable to replicate a new one. You know, you could help me look," his muffled voice came from somewhere near the floor. Suddenly his head jerked back up at the sound of the door chime.

"Come in," Walker called out to the visitor casually. Picard cast him a deadly glance and quickly readjusted his towel, standing as straight as possible in an attempt to look professional.

"Oh no", thought Picard as she walked in. On the bright side, she was carrying a carefully folded black and red uniform and a cup of something hot to drink.

* * *

Beverly Crusher appeared mildly surprised upon entering the room. Whether it was Walker's sudden reappearance or his own state of undress that surprised her, Picard might never know. To her credit, she hardly missed a beat. She smiled up at Keel. "Walker, how lovely to see you. Commander Riker said we would be meeting up with the _Horatio_, but it's too bad we have to meet again under these circumstances."

"Beverly, you look wonderful as ever, and horrible circumstances will never change that," said Walker smoothly and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Beverly gave a small chuckle as she gave Walker a brief hug.

She turned to Picard, and he noted that her gaze dropped ever so subtly before re-focusing on his face. Her smile was still there, but seemed a bit forced now. She held out the uniform for him to take. "Captain, I thought you might like a change of clothes. After our conversation the other night, I know how important they are to you…." He marveled at how she made sarcasm seem so endearing. "And, in case you were wondering, I already recycled the uniform you were wearing when you were brought here. It wasn't salvageable."

"Oh. Yes, thank you," said Picard trying to sound casual. "I had figured as much," he lied, gripping the uniform to his bare chest somewhat over-protectively.

Beverly took a step back, and set the cup carefully down on a nearby table. She smoothed out her lab coat, suddenly seeming a bit self-conscious. "I thought you might like something to help wake you up. If I recall, you enjoy hot Earl Grey tea," she said, gesturing to the steaming cup of liquid.

Picard's eyebrows rose. "Indeed…I do, thank you."

Beverly flashed a quick, very professional smile. "Alright then, I'll leave you to get dressed." She turned to leave.

"Oh, Doctor," called out Walker with a slightly mischievous grin. "Does this mean he's now fit for duty?"

Crusher turned back and her eyes flicked from Walker to Picard, and back to Walker. Realizing she was being teased, she tilted her head and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Yes," she said as professionally as possible, before she turned to leave again.

* * *

Picard picked up the tea cup and sipped it carefully. "I can't believe she remembered what tea I like after all these years," he murmured somewhat absently.

Walker looked at his friend with disbelief. "Forget the tea, Jean-Luc. Did you see the way she was looking at you?"

"Hmm? What way?"

"She's attracted to you, _that's what_ way. Don't you see it?"

Picard sighed and put the mug down with a clatter. _This_ again. "Walker you are tiresome, do you know that? I have no intention of discussing my personal life with you. We'll meet with my staff in forty-five minutes to discuss the Andorian-Vulcan situation. Now go away and let me get dressed," he said grumpily.

"You sound like you are forgetting we're the same rank, Jean-Luc. You certainly don't have to order me to get out." Still Walker didn't budge and they both continued to stand there in stubborn silence.

Suddenly Picard shrugged. "Alright, I'm just going to get dressed now," he threatened.

"Okay, I get it, you don't have to drop the towel," said Walker putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll see you in 45 minutes," he said and finally turned to leave.

* * *

T'Pel sat cross-legged on the observation deck. She had to drive the trouble from her mind. She knew that this ship was on its way to her home world, and that the political forces had failed. Now the two militaries would come face to face. Somehow the people who had decided to declare war, or certainly had done little to avoid it, had forgotten about the children who had been rescued by the _Enterprise_ and were now on their way back home. And still, T'Pel had her mission to complete.

She had also learned that Captain Picard had recovered from his near death escape from the _Ishran._ Now she knew that he was well, she felt her focus return. "Lower lights seventy percent," she said softly and the room darkened considerably. Light from the stars outside the viewport streamed in and caused shadows to play upon the wall behind her. She had no time to study them. Right now it was the inner shadows that she needed to study, to control. If she failed, he would not come, and he would not allow himself to be drawn out.

She closed her eyes and relaxed her facial muscles and then gradually the rest of her body. She kept her hands folded loosely in her lap, she focused until that was the only sensation she felt. In her mind her hands reached out and opened a small window and she reached out and pulled herself through. She was in darkness, but her hands reached out again and pulled open a heavy wooden door. The hallway was long and narrow, and the writings of Surak covered the clay walls. His writings led all of Vulcan to freedom through logic in the 4th century. As every child learned from a young age, and T'pel was no exception, Surak's writings had reformed a society and created the way forward. There was little else more sacred to most Vulcans than Surak's ideas made real.

She heard a scraping noise, at first faint and it seemed to grow louder as she focused her gaze down the hallway. She halted and squinted, looking down the long corridor. She began to walk forward, and the scraping sound increased. She saw a crouching figure at the end of the hallway. He was using a metal tool to scrape the walls. His shape was almost as familiar to her as her own, even though she had seen him only once as an adult. "Ra'Val!" she shouted out to him. He dug methodically at the writings that covered the walls. His intent she knew was not just to erase Surak's writings from the walls, as the vision showed her, but to erase Surak's impact on society. She knew that his aim was not to teach a different way, but to destroy what was.

Slowly Ra'Val stood up. Unlike in their youth he towered over her by nearly a foot. He smiled down at her and dropped the tool on the ground almost carelessly. "You have found me my sister. Now what do you intend to do to stop me?"

T'Pel's eyes snapped open and in front of her stood the little boy, Thar. Even in the dark room, his eyes seemed to be enveloped in a deep blackness. "Answer me," the boy demanded, but his voice was not his own anymore; it was that of her brother.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Wes, come on and eat. I've got a staff meeting in 30 minutes."

Wesley Crusher sat in his bedroom at his desk, trying to fine-tune his latest project. But he kept coming up against a wall. If he didn't finish it soon, there would be no point to it really. "Okay, Mom, I'm coming," he called out.

Moments later he sat across from his mother at the breakfast table. He fiddled with his spoon and slid his cereal bowl back and forth absentmindedly. All he could think about was finishing his project.

"Eat," ordered his mother. "You need fuel for that diabolical brain of yours, Wesley."

Reluctantly, he turned at least part of his attention to his corn flakes.

Beverly Crusher bit into an apple and stirred her coffee as she watched her son. She couldn't believe that less than 48 hours ago he had pulled off the impossible in the shuttle bay. And now here he was, unable to train his brain to eat his cereal.

She frowned, looking at him more closely. He was wearing a light jacket, under which he appeared to be wearing some kind of shiny pin on his tunic. It was partially covered. "What is that you're wearing?" she asked gesturing somewhat accusingly with her apple.

"Uh—it's a communicator," he said trying to be serious, but the corners of his mouth twitched into what she had to admit was a cute smile.

"Where did you get it?" Now she did not bother to soften her accusing tone.

Wesley took a deep breath. "Captain Picard," he said sounding very proud of himself.

Crusher was thoroughly surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, he had Mr. Data make it for me. The Captain said I should use it to communicate with Commander Riker the next time I have a good idea. But I think he really gave it to me to keep track of me in emergencies."

Beverly pulled at a croissant. "Really," she said again. A small smile played across her lips. "What a good idea," she said taking a sip of her coffee. She grew thoughtful for a moment. "So, did you have a good talk then?" She ventured carefully.

"Kind of," he said slowly. "We talked about what kinds of projects I've worked on and how Captain Picard and Dad used to go running, and even how much it rained the day of Dad's funeral."

Beverly put her coffee cup down, and realized her hand was shaking slightly. "You talked about all of that?"

"Well…actually I did most of the talking," said Wesley. "He mostly listened."

"Oh." She picked up her cup again. "Well that sounds about right," she murmured.

"Oh and he did ask me to go running with him," Wesley added. His mother's jaw dropped again.

"Well wonders never cease," she said laughing. "He's never asked me to go running with him, that's for sure." She stopped laughing abruptly. "But he's right; he and Jack did go running together. They were both very athletic, I think Jack only went running to be with Jean-Luc. He didn't care whether he won or not. They really looked out for each other," she said somewhat distantly. She smiled at her son, with a sudden sadness in her eyes. "I don't mean to ramble."

"It's okay, Mom."

She stood up. "We've both got things to do, right?" Wesley nodded and picked up his bowl and brought it over to the replicator, switching on its disposal function. He picked up the rest of the dishes and did the same. Suddenly he turned around to look at his mother. "Mom, can I ask you a personal question?"

Beverly hesitated while putting her lab coat on. "Okay," she said, not sure what to expect after that breakfast.

"Did you ever date anyone after Dad died?"

Beverly opened and shut her mouth without a sound. "Um, yes, at times…but nothing serious," she added. It was true, but she had no idea if it was what he wanted to hear. "Why?" she asked him.

Wesley was clearly now embarrassed by his own question. "Uh, nothing…it's just that if you ever wanted to date anyone, I mean in a…serious or not so serious way, I hope you wouldn't worry about what I think. I just want you to be happy."

* * *

The doors to the conference room swished open, and Beverly Crusher found the room empty, save for one occupant hunched over his computer terminal. She hesitated before entering the room because she hadn't meant to be early. Judging by the Captain's posture, and the way he was leaning his forehead into the palm of his hand, and tapping the table with the index finger of his other hand, he was too engrossed in what he was doing to even notice her arrival.

She could not help but feel that she was intruding on his personal space. She was used to being the last one to show up at staff meetings because normally she had to practically be dragged to them. But this was a new job, and she was trying to break old habits. At least the bad ones. She waited quietly, watching him for a moment.

Finally, he looked up at her from his computer screen, and the tension and worry in his features related to whatever he had been reading seemed to lessen, only to be replaced by another kind of tension. Perhaps the same kind she too was experiencing. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor, I didn't mean to leave you standing there."

"It's good to see you up and around, sir" she said walking toward him. Picard stood up and walked around the table to meet her. "Thank you," he said. "You are a bit early, Doctor. I was just catching up on the latest reports from Vulcan. I admit that I have some misgivings about dragging my new and relativity untested crew into a potential war."

She knew that she was likely the only person in board who he would admit that to. She could see that he did not yet trust Troi enough to confide his fears to her, which was unfortunate in Beverly's opinion. She could see how much Troi wanted to be of value to the Captain. And she doubted he would admit anything close to fear to his new first officer although she could already see a relationship of trust growing between the two men.

Beverly nodded. "The situation is frightening. Have you talked with T'Pel? I can't imagine how she is feeling. First, her brother murders a whole group of people and disappears and now a potential war is brewing because of his actions. She must feel incredibly guilty about all of this."

Picard looked quizzical. "Guilty? What for?"

"Well wouldn't you be if you were in her situation, Jean-Luc? It's her brother."

"One should not feel responsible for the sins of one's blood relatives, Doctor" he said earnestly. "Besides," he added, "T'Pel is Vulcan."

Beverly laughed in disbelief. "Jean-Luc, what is _that_ supposed to mean? That she doesn't have feelings?"

He appeared mildly offended. "Beverly, I am well aware that T'Pel is capable of having feelings," he said in a low, slightly embarrassed voice, as though he were afraid someone else was listening.

She blushed. "Oh, of course, I didn't mean to suggest…I mean I know you probably know her better than anyone," she finished awkwardly. He glanced away from her and a strange feeling, like an old uninvited acquaintance was now in the room with them. They stood in silence for a few moments.

"Jean-Luc, how are you feeling?" Beverly asked rather abruptly. "You know I have the authority to re-admit you to sickbay, if you are still not well," she said teasingly.

"I am well," he said leaning back against the obsidian table. "I promise," he added with a small smile. The truth was, he was still rather fatigued, and his right leg had become stiff and sore since his discharge from sickbay earlier that morning. A slow burning sensation periodically came and went along the length of the scar.

"What about this?" she reached up and lightly touched the healing cut above his eyebrow. It didn't hurt, but he flinched slightly at the touch of her hand, which he hoped she did not take offense to. "It's fine," he insisted quietly.

She smiled slightly at his reaction, but instead of taking her hand away, she moved her palm to rest on his cheekbone and held it there. "The wound healing process has been slowed by your bout of poisoning, but you'll feel more like yourself in a few days or so," she said softly.

"No doubt," said Picard. "Of course I have you to thank for that," he added. He reached up to touch her wrist with the intent of moving her hand, but her skin was so unexpectedly soft and smelled so wonderful that he ended up just holding her wrist lightly. Suddenly he was at a loss of what to do next.

His mind and body were now communicating in a frantic series of conflicting warnings and possibilities. She nodded and said "Uh huh," to whatever it was he had just said—he could no longer remember just what- and then she had moved closer to him, and her hand had dropped to touch his chest. Her lips parted slightly as he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

The interfering hiss of the conference room door startled them and they moved away from each other quickly. Beverly, smoothed out her lab coat and, wrapped it around her protectively. Counselor Troi stood in the doorway bearing a very neutral expression. "Good morning, Captain, Doctor," she said, moving gracefully in to the room.

"Good morning," they said at the same time, in the same self-conscious rushed tone. Picard winced slightly and moved back to his seat. Troi sat down and carefully began to examine her fingernails with interest.

* * *

T'Pel stood on the observation deck face to face with what appeared to be Thar, one of the young Vulcan survivors from the Andorian moon. But she now knew that this appearance was a mere disguise. If she had not been Vulcan, she would have felt immense fear and revulsion toward who or what stood before her, but for now, her emotional control held fast.

"You should never have tried to hunt me down, sister."

"I still do not understand...Ra'Val, how are you being hidden inside this child?"

"The child died down on the Andorian moon. With the others," he added. "But you still see him because it is what I wish you to perceive. If I want to make you see me as I was years ago when we were brother and sister on Vulcan, I can do that just as simply." Suddenly, as he had promised, he appeared as a young teenager, just as he looked when he left her parents' home. He had left at the age of fourteen, just before their father had finally decided to drive him away. Just as instantly, Ra'Val appeared again as an adult, now much taller than her and dressed in grey robes.

"Even powerful minds such as yours can be manipulated, T'Pel," he said.

"To what end would you manipulate my mind, Ra'Val? Are we not still brother and sister? "countered T'Pel.

Ra'Val's eyes narrowed. "Do you not see? I am more than what I was. Much more."

"Perhaps you are less than you once were. Why did you kill all of those people? Why did you destroy even your own followers? Your behavior is highly illogical, highly destructive."

Her brother merely smiled. "And so now you have been sent to destroy me, is that the case? Tell me, are you prepared to kill your flesh and blood?"

She ignored his question. "Why did you leave Vulcan?"

"I outgrew Vulcan, just as I outgrew our home when we were children. My mind was stifled by the order of Vulcan society and has now been freed by the wonderful disorder of emotion. Because you are blinded by the teachings of Surak, you do not understand that your mind was meant to be free from logic," said Ra'Val.

"So you wished to join our distant cousins on Romulus, then? To be free from logic?"

"Even the Romulans have much to learn from me," he said with plain arrogance. "Had our ship not been disabled by the Andorians and crashed on that moon our small freighter would have been able to survive long enough for us to gain proper passage to Romulus. But something happened to me on that Andorian moon. The Andorians attacked me, and I had but to think…and they were gone. I have evolved. Once I felt the need to travel far away to join others who would understand my ways. But now I am happy to return to my people. By bringing me back home, you have unwittingly allowed me to re-join with Vulcan people. Perhaps it is my destiny."

T'Pel, stared up at him, shoulders squared. "What is your intent, Ra'Val? You may be able to control my mind and even the minds of this crew, but you cannot enslave the minds of an entire planet."

An aura seemed to surround him, making his robes appear to shimmer. "I do not intend to enslave anyone, my sister. They will either willingly join me or be destroyed. I have no use for this crew, aside from you of course. I will return to Vulcan in triumph, with a starship under my command."

Tpel raised an eyebrow. "You will return to Vulcan in restraints," she responded calmly.

He smiled. "You have attained supremacy of logic through Kolinahr and yet you deny the reality of this situation. If I leave this room no one else on board this ship will be able to stop me."

"Then you will not leave this room," said T'Pel.

* * *

Geordi LaForge was late for a staff meeting, and Wesley, it appeared, was late for school. "Hey Wes, wait up," said Geordi, quickening his pace to catch up with the teenager in front of him in the corridor. "What is that you've got there?" he nodded at the globe-like object under Wesley's arm.

Wesley slowed and smiled at LaForge. "It's a prototype. A modification of the energy field generator I created in shuttle bay one. As soon as I can figure out how to create a portable energy source strong enough, we can set it up anywhere on the ship."

Geordi stared at him. "And why would 'we' want to do that?" asked LaForge, folding his arms over his chest skeptically.

"Well, Ra'Val is still on the loose," said Wesley. He shrugged. "What if we could spring a trap to catch him?"

"Assuming he shows up," said Geordi. "He hasn't shown himself yet, and pretty soon we'll be arriving at Vulcan. I for one am having a hard time believing that he's even here."

Wesley shrugged again. "I guess you're right…I just—"

Geordi patted him on the shoulder. "I know, you were trying to help. Listen, why don't you meet me and Commander Data later this afternoon and the three of us can discuss whether this could be modified further into something that is workable. If the three of us put our heads together, we might be able to pull something together faster. Okay?"

Wesley grinned. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. Geordi clapped him on the back and his smile faded as he considered whether Captain Picard would forgive his lateness. They continued walking together, and until Geordi slowed, and his head jerked upward.

"What is it?" Asked Wesley alarmed.

"Some kind of crazy energy surge one deck up. I'm going to go check it out," said LaForge running to the closest turbo lift.

"Can I come with you?" Wesley stood in the middle of the corridor looking dejected and still holding his school belongings.

Geordi sighed loudly and held the turbo lift door. "As long as we can agree, I'm not explaining this to your teacher and especially not to your mother," he said. Wesley grinned and hurried to join him in the lift.

When they arrived at the observation deck they were surprised to find the corridor lights flickering on and off. Geordi used his visor to locate the energy disturbance he had seen from the deck below. Wesley followed close behind him, but LaForge didn't seem to notice, he was so focused on what his visor was telling him. He halted outside one of the observation lounges. "There are two humanoids in here," said LaForge. "Two Vulcan adults!" He turned to look at Wesley and then walked into the door. It didn't budge. It had been sealed from the inside. How, he had no idea, as he could tell the locking system was not engaged. "Wow…" he said, touching his visor lightly. "Wes, they're floating in mid-air!"

* * *

"The Andorians and Vulcans have a stormy history, to say the least," said Captain Picard. "I have asked Lt. Commander Data to prepare an overview of that history, as we prepare to attempt to intervene in this impending conflict. Mr. Data?" Picard seriously hoped that Data could keep his summary to fifteen minutes or less, but given the android's track history so far, it was merely wishful thinking he knew.

All eyes shifted to rest on the android Data who nodded. "The Andorians and Vulcans were closely allied during the 20th and 21st centuries, with a few exceptions. It was not until the mid- 22nd century when the Andorians discovered that the Vulcan government had implemented an intricate surveillance program throughout Andorian society. What followed were a series of wars and a period of more subdued hostility characterized by propaganda and the stockpiling of armaments."

"A cold war," said Walker Keel. "But we're over two hundred years since these two societies were at war. Even when I was involved in more…covert activities, there was not even a whisper of the threat of war between the Vulcans and Andorians."

"It's not hard to believe that recent events would be enough to trigger a new war, though, Captain. The Andorians lost over one hundred colonists apparently at the hands of one Vulcan," said Riker.

"It's still so strange to think of a Vulcan harming anyone except in self-defense, or because it is…well logical I suppose," said Troi.

"It is hard for any of us here to see Vulcans as violent, given the way that Vulcans conduct themselves in recent memory, but as Data explained there is a documented history of violence," said Picard. "And prior to the unification of Vulcan society under Surak's teachings, the whole of Vulcan society was embroiled in civil war." He gestured to his second officer. "Data please continue with-"

Suddenly the conference room door burst open and Lt. LaForge and Wesley Crusher came running into the room, both of them out of breath.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Picard stood up angrily. "Lt. LaForge, where the hell have you been…and why do you have Mr. Crusher with you?" He trailed off, both puzzled and angry now.

Geordi stood at attention, and Wesley adopted a similar stance, attempting to avoid the penetrating gaze of his mother. "Sorry I'm late sir," breathed LaForge. "It's Ra'Val, Captain. I think he and T'Pel have locked themselves in one of the lounges on the observation deck."

The other officers were standing now. "Captain," said Yar, moving to his side. "I recommend we move fast and send my teams down to capture Ra'Val." Riker and Walker Keel began talking at the same time.

Picard held up his hand as if telling everyone to hold on for a moment. "We already know Ra'Val is capable of killing with a thought. Right now, T'Pel is our best hope. And I know it sounds strange, but she will at least buy us some time."

"Captain, aren't you gambling with her life?" Counselor Troi stared at him with barely contained astonishment. This was one of his oldest friends after all. Yar shot her an unfriendly look.

"For the record," said Walker. "She's risked her own life to confront him anyway, and she has her own plan. I highly doubt she would want our help now."

"Walker how on earth can you say a thing like that?" said Beverly with disgust. "We've got to go and help her."

"Sir, we have no idea why she's there," said Riker. "They are siblings, and she did keep that very important piece of information a secret from you—"

"I agree with Riker," said Walker. "I know you have a long history with her, Jean-Luc, but we don't know enough about her activities during the last ten years. Her loyalty—"

"Walker, I'm not going to play a guessing game with you about what T'Pel is thinking," snapped Picard. He didn't see in the least how his history with T'Pel was relevant to their current problem.

Keel shrugged. "Fine. Let's begin evacuation procedures onto my ship."

"Walker, you can't absorb more than a third of my crew safely. I need ideas about how to capture Ra'Val without losing the lives of this crew," he said.

LaForge spoke up. "Wes has an idea." The whole room fell silent and turned to stare at Wesley, who stood holding his homemade science project.

Picard sat with Data, LaForge and Wesley Crusher in his ready room. He had ordered the other senior officers back to the bridge for the time being. All civilians had been ordered back to their quarters and were told to engage their personal security systems.

"What exactly is this device capable of doing that a simple force field is not?" Picard asked.

"First of all we think we can modify it so that it can be emitted from a phaser," said LaForge. "So the odds of us catching Ra'Val off guard can only improve if more of the crew has the ability to catch him."

"Well, we've taken as many measures as I can think of to catch someone who is as elusive as a ghost. Now that we know where is we have a chance to detain or at least slow him. My concern is that when he's confronted will he kill before we are able to capture him?"

"Based on his recent actions, that is highly likely, sir," said Data.

Laforge shot Data a look. "That's true sir, but I still think Wesley's idea is worth a try."

Picard's brow furrowed. "You are right of course. We haven't any better ideas at this point. And we've reached a crucial point at which there is no escaping that we are all in grave danger. "He sighed. "I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention and you, in particular, Mr. Crusher for formulating the idea in the first place. I will rely on the expertise of Mr. Data and Mr. LaForge to use the resources in Engineering to complete the final construction of this device. But…I am afraid I cannot risk putting you in danger by allowing you to assist these two officers, Mr. Crusher."

Wesley reddened, looking as though he wanted to protest, but did not.

"Wesley," said Picard firmly but gently. "You will stay on the bridge with me." Wesley's eyes grew wider. "You may sit at one of the science stations and communicate with Mr. Data and Mr. LaForge from there as to the progress." "Dismissed."

* * *

Wesley Crusher stepped proudly out of the ready room to find his mother waiting for him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat. "Why the hell aren't you in school?" Beverly Crusher demanded as Wesley walked out of the ready room ahead of Data and LaForge. "Your job is to be in school, not throwing yourself in the middle of each new crisis."

"The Captain said…" Wesley began to mutter.

Crusher let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, I see. Listen, young man, you answer to me first, and I hope that you are not forgetting that. This has nothing to do with Captain Picard; this has to do with your failure to take responsibility for your actions. Now, you are to go back to your class right now, and explain to the teacher why you are an hour late."

"Mom, school got out early, remember? Captain Picard just ordered all civilians to their quarters," Wesley reminded his mother, trying to not sound too self-satisfied. Still, he could tell his mother was not impressed. In fact, at the mention of Captain Picard's name she seemed to grow even more annoyed.

Seeing a pause in the drama, LaForge tried to duck around the Doctor, but Crusher put up her hands. "Wait a minute, Lieutenant. You brought my son to a senior staff meeting, so I would like to know what role you played in making sure he didn't get to class this morning," she said.

LaForge glanced at Wesley, hoping he remembered their agreement about not having to explain Wesley's absence: "…and especially not to your mother," drifted through the helmsman's skull. By getting into the lift with LaForge, Wesley had implicitly agreed to allow LaForge to keep his mouth shut, should any questions be asked later on. But Wesley was just staring down at the deck sheepishly and provided no assistance. "Uh…I held the turbo lift door," Geordi admitted reluctantly.

"If I may interject," said Data. "Captain Picard just ordered Lt. LaForge and I to go to engineering, and therefore—"

Crusher turned to him abruptly. "Oh, are you involved in this too?"

Data's head swiveled back and forth rapidly looking from person to person. "No, Doctor, I—"

Just then, the Captain stepped out of his ready room with an irritated expression on his face. "Commander Data and Lt. LaForge you are _dismissed. _I need you both in engineering. Mr. Crusher, please report to science station 2." He turned on his heel and walked back into his office without another word.

* * *

Crusher, now highly irritated, stepped in behind him before the doors closed. As they shut behind them, Picard turned and was clearly surprised to see her standing there.

"Yes?" was all he could manage.

"Captain, when were you planning to inform me that you've recruited my son into Starfleet?"

"Recruited?" Picard was incredulous.

"You ordered him to report to 'science station 2'. Is he part of your crew now?"

"No, of course not. But he did volunteer—"

"He's _fourteen_ years old, Jean-Luc. Do you really think he should be volunteering for Starfleet assignments without my consent?"

Picard took a deep breath. "The device we are building to capture Ra'Val was Wesley's idea, Doctor. It would have been wrong of me to prevent him from being involved."

"Don't try to turn this into a moral issue, so that you can be the one who is right, Jean-Luc."

His jaw tightened at the obvious slight. He knew there was no way to win this argument. "Beverly, I considered confining him to quarters like the other civilians, but I simply thought he would be safer here on the bridge."

"As he is my son, I'm not sure it was your decision to make. The fact is, Jean-Luc, he would do anything you asked him to do, and that scares me." She immediately regretted saying what she had been thinking. She could tell by the slightly wounded look in his eyes that her words had hit their mark.

He folded his arms over his chest defensively, but his voice remained controlled. "Of course, given our history, Beverly, I can see how you would feel that way. I shouldn't be surprised that you don't trust me to make decisions involving your son's welfare."

"What do you mean 'our history'?"

He remained silent, but gradually she realized what he meant, and now it was she who became defensive. "This isn't about Jack," she insisted.

He looked at her. "I never said it was," he said quietly.

"Yes, well I'm learning you convey a great deal without saying what you think," she said pointedly. She felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, but she blinked them away.

They stared at each other a few more moments in uncomfortable silence. Whatever closeness they had experienced just an hour ago when they had been alone, seemed to have escaped the room. "Then perhaps you should return to sickbay and attend to your duties there," said Picard quietly.

Crusher inhaled sharply and turned to leave.

* * *

"Wow," said Riker under his breath as Crusher exited the Captain's ready room with a full head of steam and headed over to Wesley Crusher who was seated at the science station. She stooped over her son; hand on his shoulder, speaking quietly to him for a few moments before leaving on the turbo lift. Riker couldn't help but notice again that she was a very attractive woman, and somehow her obvious anger did something to enhance this quality. He also felt for the Captain, who he knew had nerves of steel, but still…. "She is something…" he smiled in admiration, but became serious again when he saw Troi was looking at him with a look that said, "oh grow up Will".

Riker stood up quickly as Picard left his ready room and approached the command center. "Report," he said. If he was disturbed by his heated conversation with Doctor Crusher he certainly didn't appear so to Riker.

"Captain Keel has beamed back to the _Horatio. _He says he stands ready to assist, should we need it, Captain. In addition, Admiral Imhoff has ordered the _USS Columbia_ to join us at Vulcan. Your orders, sir?" said Riker.

Picard nodded. "We'll continue to proceed to Vulcan as planned. Commander, I would like you to ensure that our evacuation procedures are ready, should we need them. And we need to expect casualties should we engage in battle over Vulcan. Please coordinate with Doctor Crusher as needed."

"Aye sir," said Riker and headed for the lift.

* * *

Picard sat down in his command chair stiffly, and Troi was nearly pushed over by the haze of turmoil within his mind. He was outwardly calm, but inwardly he was struggling to maintain control of his anger and to stifle something else. Longing…and guilt; yes, it was clear as day to her.

"Captain," said Troi. "I am concerned that the Vulcan children are at-risk."

"All of the children on this ship are at-risk now, Counselor," Picard said gruffly, as he studied the command panel on the arm of his chair. "_This is what happens when Starfleet allows children aboard a Starship. Nothing but damn trouble."_ he thought crossly.

Troi interlaced her fingers. "That is true," she said in a measured tone, responding to his statement and ignoring his grumpy thoughts about children. "But I think that the Redeemer children will be targeted by Ra'Val if he is able to find them."

Picard continued to refuse to look up from his task, as he typed code into the panel. "How do you know this?"

Deanna raised an eyebrow. "I sense it, sir," she said with a slight edge. A wave of something from him—was it skepticism? _"He still doesn't trust me,"_ she thought to herself. _"He is so afraid of his own feelings that he doubts anyone who makes it their work to know feelings and emotions." _A realization struck her. _"Is he afraid of my abilities?"_

He finally turned to regard her with a piercing gaze. "And what do you recommend, Counselor? We cannot very well hide them from someone who is capable of reading everyone's mind on this ship."

"Perhaps we can, sir. Let me go to them, sir. I will try and convince them to quiet their minds so that they can hide."

His expression turned from disbelief to some semblance of understanding. He nodded. "Lt. Yar," he said into the communications link. "Please personally accompany Counselor Troi and the Vulcan children to a new location, and place a security team inside with them."

"Aye sir," came Yar's voice.

Picard looked at Deanna. "Please keep me aware of your progress, Counselor. No unnecessary risks. And once you have finished with the children, report back to the bridge. I may need you here," he said.

* * *

How could he leave one of his oldest friends in danger? No matter how many times Picard thought about the threat to the entire crew, he could not help but think of T'Pel, and the pain and suffering she was no doubt experiencing at the hands of her own brother. He still believed that she was their only hope of slowing Ra'Val down. Not only was she his sibling, which one hoped would make him less likely to want to harm her, at least fatally, but she was also an incredibly powerful telepath, and she had been trained to control her thoughts and emotions in ways few others were capable of. He reminded himself that T'Pel would never have been sentimental about the situation, nor would she have allowed emotions to cloud her judgment if she were in his position. Still, he dared not to think what he would do, if she was killed. He would not be surprised that if he really considered it, his heart would surely stop.

_"__And I never should have tried with the boy_," thought Picard as he finished sending a status report to Admiral Imhoff. _"I have no instinct for relating to children…or to their mothers it seems. What a fool,"_ he thought bitterly. He sighed and got up, feeling stiff. He limped slightly as he walked up the ramp to approach the science station where Wesley Crusher was sitting. Wesley was studying a three dimensional sphere projected from the screen he was watching. The sphere turned, depending on which way the boy moved his hand. Watching him, Picard felt a pang of something, he wasn't sure what, but he buried it, and continued his approach. "Mr. Crusher, how is our progress?"

"Oh, hi Captain," said Wesley turning around with a smile. "Well, we're about 50 percent complete, but for the amount of energy it requires to operate, the device is still too large."

Picard nodded curtly. "Very well," he said. "Please patch me in to Mr. Data in engineering."

"Okay, I mean yes, sir." He watched as Wesley hesitated only slightly and then created the link to Engineering with the ease of someone who had been trained to do it. The feeling came back. "_He's so like Jack,"_ he thought, and then mentally brushed the thought aside.

"Commander Data," said Picard, leaning into the terminal. "Is it feasible to finish this within the next thirty minutes? I have no idea the exact amount of time we have, assuming that T'Pel is unable to stop Ra'Val and he runs loose on this ship."

"Yes, sir, I believe that it is possible to fashion this device to fit a phased weapon in the amount of time you indicated. However, the original plan of fitting multiple phasers with the device will take additional time, which as you suggested, we may not have."

"Does Lt. LaForge concur?"

"Yes, Captain," piped in LaForge. "Because of the amount of energy this thing is going to be packing, our best bet is to fit it with one of the phaser rifles, as opposed to the sidearm, sir."

"Understood," said Picard. He paused. "Data, perhaps this goes without saying, but considering the circumstances, I want you to keep the phaser in your possession. Ra'Val has no power over your mind, and you will be the least affected by him. However, if he is able to move objects, which no doubt he is, you will not be completely safe, despite your other abilities. We may need to place all of our hopes in you, Data," he said.

"Understood sir."

Picard stood back and turned to Worf, who was covering for Yar at tactical while she organized security teams all over the ship. "How long before we reach Vulcan, Mr. Worf?"

"Three hours and forty-two minutes, sir."

"Very good," he said curtly and turned back to Wesley.

"Captain? I'm sorry about what happened earlier…you know with my Mom."

Picard cleared his throat. There was no way he was going to get into this right now, or if he had his way—ever. "Please try and focus on the task at hand, Mr. Crusher," he said tiredly.

"Aye sir." He began typing figures into the console at an impressive rate. Picard struggled to keep up with the equations appearing one after another on the screen. "You know she has quite a temper sometimes sir, but she almost always calms down," said Wesley.

Picard shut his eyes, trying to exude patience. "Don't speak ill of your mother, young man," he said sternly. "She only has your best interests in mind."

"Yes sir."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"Data, I'm not feeling all that optimistic about this project. Is there some reason why you told the Captain we could finish this in 30 minutes?" LaForge asked while maneuvering a laser tool over the field generator. They had tested a larger prototype and were now working hard to fabricate a much smaller tube-like device about the size of Geordi's index finger. The problem was, they were running out of time.

Data looked up from his tricorder. "Yes, Geordi. Captain Picard asked whether the device could be completed in 30 minutes. I then calculated the odds and determined that it was indeed a possibility. "

Geordi looked up, his expression blank. Sweat beaded up on his forehead. "And...what exactly were those odds?" He asked slowly.

"Five hundred to one," Data replied.

"Data, that's crazy! Why didn't you explain that to him?"

Data looked at Geordi. "Geordi, I have learned over the past week that Captain Picard appears to grow impatient when I attempt to explain levels of probability to him. On one occasion he ordered me to stop speaking. On another-"

"He's always impatient, Data," interrupted LaForge impatiently. "Trust me; you need to learn when to give him as much information as possible, and when to leave some of the more extraneous details out."

Data's smooth brow furrowed in a very realistic expression of confusion. "I do not understand. How will I know when Captain Picard wants to know the truth and when he wants to be lied to?"

"Whoa, I didn't say anything about lying, Data. You can't lie," LaForge clarified. "But, for instance, the next time the Captain comes up with a timeline that is _completely_ unrealistic for getting our work done, you could let him know that we will actually need more time. On the other hand, there are other times when he just won't want to know the odds."

"But…how will I know which is the appropriate course of action, Geordi?"

Geordi shut off the laser tool for a moment and waved it around for dramatic effect. "Look, it's a learning process, Data. For all of us." He snapped his fingers. "What if I gave you a signal? You know, when I think Captain Picard might need a little extra information, I'll clear my throat. And when you should just keep it short, I'll sneeze. Okay?"

"Okay," said Data.

The communications panel chirped. _"Data, what is your status? Are you and Lt. LaForge nearly finished?"_ came Picard's voice on the other end.

Data hesitated. "No sir," he said.

"_What?_" demanded Picard's voice.

Data turned to Geordi for guidance.

Geordi made a frantic gesture with his hand and then cleared his throat, as promised.

"We have determined that your deadline of 30 minutes is completely unrealistic, sir. Accordingly, we require additional time, Captain," said Data. He glanced at LaForge for approval. Instead, Geordi was frantically miming an odd cutting motion across his neck with the index finger of his hand. Data was not familiar with this new signal.

There was a substantial delay on the other end. "_Oh really… well, you are just going to have to make do with the time you have been given, Mr. Data._ _Picard out."_

Data turned to LaForge, looking perplexed. "I do not believe the Captain understood my statement, Geordi."

"Ohhh, yes he did," Geordi assured his friend.

* * *

T'Pel moved her foot slowly and then her knee. She blinked her eyes a few times and found that her difficulty seeing was not injury-related, but that an object above her was obscuring her vision. She worked to free her arms and felt a shooting pain down her neck. Focusing her mind she pushed upward applying as much force as she could. The object rattled but did not move. The object was not too heavy for her but must have been stuck on something else. Focusing her mind again she pushed until she could feel her facial muscles quivering with the effort. She lay back feeling the pain in her neck again and calmed her mind ignoring the exhaustion of her injured body. The next time she carefully placed her palms upon the flat surface of the object it slid out of the way smoothly with much less effort.

Now that the ceiling of the observation lounge was visible she could see that she was tangled in a heap of refuse that RaVal had no doubt buried her in just minutes ago. She had a dim memory of being carried around the room in mid-air but remembered little afterward until the moment she regained consciousness. She had been able to keep the door to the observation lounge secured by using the focus of her mind, but surely, after she had fallen unconscious, her brother had been able to escape. She could not be sure, however, if anything was capable of holding him captive. She could hear a faint rasping noise from behind her. With a considerable force of will she struggled to her feet tossing a chair out of the way.

Once on her feet, she raised her left arm to her face in dazed fascination. The artificial skin she had grown used to seeing on her cybernetic arm for the last ten years had cracked and was peeling off grotesquely, completely exposing her metallic hand. The rasping sound seemed to grow steadier, and then she saw what it was. RaVal was crouched in the center of the room, head down, breathing very deeply. He appeared to be regaining his strength, much of which had been depleted from using his mind as a weapon.

She walked toward him, flexing her cybernetic fist. If she could not defeat him with her mind, it appeared she would need to resort to her physical abilities. The breathing slowed as she approached. He looked up at her suddenly. A fleeting look of horror passed over his face as his eyes rested on her robotic hand. "You cannot defeat me," he said in a low voice. "I do not want to harm you, sister."

T'Pel flexed her fist again. "You already have," she said and punched him in the side of his temple. He fell to the floor as though lifeless, but slowly the greenish welt she had raised on the side of his head; a wound that she knew would have killed a normal person, began to grow smooth and disappear as though it had never been there. His eyes opened and began to laugh and turned to her with a ferocious look. Before he could stand, she leaped toward him and gripped the base of his neck with her right hand in a nerve pinch. With her left hand, she struck at his face again. But this time, her metallic fist struck an invisible force. Ra'Val was staring at the hand, and gradually he used his power to push it away from his face, back toward her. T'Pel felt a great heat, as she attempted to counter his resistance, but now she noted with concern that her cybernetic hand was beginning to glow orange. It appeared that he was using his mind to melt it.

* * *

Chief of Security Tasha Yar met Counselor Troi at the turbo lift as ordered. She had no idea what the Captain intended for Counselor Troi to accomplish, but Yar had no intention of questioning her orders. "Counselor," she said curtly, as Troi stepped off of the lift.

"Lieutenant," said Troi, matching Yar's formal tone. "Thank you for meeting me," she said.

"Of course," said Yar easily, and began striding through toward their destination. The security chief had long slender legs and it was difficult for Troi, who was much shorter, to keep up.

Troi eyed the young woman as they continued at a near run through the corridor toward the children's quarters. "You're not in the least bit scared are you?"

"Of what?" Given the circumstances, Yar's questioning response was amazing, but at the same time, completely honest.

"Of anything, really," said Troi. "A madman is on the loose and the Enterprise may be headed into battle if all else fails. But death is nothing to you, is it?"

Yar stopped abruptly. "What the hell did you just say?"

"I said, death is nothing to you, but apparently judging by your reaction, I was wrong."

"You _are_ wrong," said Tasha. "Just because I don't talk about how scared I am, or how much I might fear death like anyone else, that doesn't mean these things don't affect me."

"You have seen so much suffering in your life. It's perfectly understandable that you would put up a barrier," said Troi, as they picked up the pace again. Yar did not answer, and Troi decided she would let the matter drop.

When they reached the Vulcan children's quarters, Yar stopped and punched in a security code, and the doors swished open. She gestured silently for Troi to enter.

"Aren't you coming in?" asked Troi.

Yar stood stiffly with her back to the wall. "No, I'll wait out here. And with all due respect, Counselor, why don't you save your psychological insight for the children? You're wasting your time with me."

"Lt., you are anything but a waste of my time," Troi remarked with a slight smile and then turned away and entered the guest quarters.

* * *

She felt her body hit the wall, but instead of feeling her body crack and give way to the wall, the wall gave way to the force of her hurtling form, and T'Pel was thrust at a great speed out of the confines of the observation lounge. She remembered no more.

* * *

Sickbay was busy, which was odd because there were few patients to speak of. If Dr. Beverly crusher could have prevented what now seemed to be the inevitable battle over Vulcan she would have. But instead, now her only option was to prepare to take on a substantial number of casualties. And then there was the more immediate matter of whether Ra'Val would attempt to kill everyone on the ship as he had done in the Andorian colony. If he did lash out again violently, sickbay would be of little use to anyone. She would have to rely on the command officers to do their jobs to protect the crew. She tried to put it out of her head because whenever she thought too much about the subject, she thought of Wesley, who had once again put himself in the thick of it. She hoped she would not later regret allowing him to stay on the bridge.

For now, she took her frustrations out on a disembodied voice emitting from a communications panel. "No. I said I want all minor sickbays to be used for triage and emergency cases _only_. Any major surgery and surgical recovery will be done here in main sickbay... I don't care what Dr. Pickett told you," said Crusher to the invisible nurse. "Dr. Pickett's not in charge. Crusher out," she snapped. She glanced up as Commander Riker stepped into sickbay, and at the same time, she took a data pad from a passing nurse. She shook her head. "Allison, this isn't going to be enough room for the extra bio beds. I'm authorizing you to clear out the med labs—we need to maximize all the resources we have available even if that means emptying rooms. Alright?" said Crusher with a small but encouraging smile as she handed the report back to the nurse.

"Yes, Doctor," the woman said, hurrying away.

Crusher turned her attention back to Riker with a strained expression. She exhaled loudly. "Can I help you, Commander?" She asked, sounding as though she hoped he didn't need too much help.

Riker nodded. "Yes, Doctor, the Captain asked me to check in with you about your preparedness for taking on multiple casualties."

"Well, I have preparations are underway, but it would help to know how many we should expect."

"Worst-case scenario is: we could have injuries in the hundreds, with up to one hundred killed."

"Commander that is completely unthinkable," said Crusher obviously outraged.

Riker was grim. "I wish you were right, Beverly, but these are exactly the issues a person in my position has to think about."

"Fair enough," she conceded. "Maybe I should have said unacceptable, not unthinkable."

"Put it any way you want," said Riker. It wasn't as though he disagreed with her. "Of course we will do our best to avoid anyone being harmed."

Crusher pressed her lips together in a tight smile. He supposed that was as much of a response as she was willing to give. She handed him her data pad. "Here is what we have so far," she said.

Riker read the reports quickly and nodded. "This looks solid. I am going to recommend to Captain Picard that we move the civilians closer to the interior of the ship which may help to minimize injuries to non-Starfleet crew members."

"And you think he'll agree?"

Riker nodded. "If there's time before we reach Vulcan, I think he will. But I don't think he will risk moving them right now, given the situation with Ra'Val."

Crusher tapped her tricorder on her thigh. "Has anyone heard from T'Pel? It makes me sick to think she may be injured and we have no way of helping her," said Beverly.

"I understand your concern, Beverly, but we have to focus on stopping her brother first. I think we are all pulling for T'Pel. Especially the Captain," he added.

At the mention of Picard, an uneasy expression washed over Beverly's face, but she said nothing for a moment. "And what about my son? Is he still helping Data and Geordi?"

"I left the bridge shortly after you did, but I am sure he is doing great," he said breaking into a smile. "After all, he's come through for us before," he added.

She nodded looking simultaneously proud and embarrassed. "Yes, he has." She paused. "I…didn't exactly agree with Captain Picard about whether Wesley should be on the bridge." Her face flushed slightly as though she might have regretted something of that conversation.

Riker tried to maintain a neutral expression. "Really," was all he said.

She pursed her lips, and it appeared that she was considering whether it was worth it for her to continue. She suddenly had a far-away look in her eyes. "I've known Captain Picard a long time," she said slowly. "But…it's safe to say we went through many years without really getting to know each other, and frankly it has been more awkward seeing him again than I expected. I don't know what I expected, Will, but not this."

"Look," said Riker, honestly surprised and flattered that she was confiding in him. "Your business is your business, and you don't have to tell me anything about your history if you don't want to. I know I gave you a hard time on the shuttle, and I hope you weren't too offended when I tried to hit on you a little…"

"Oh is that what that was?" she laughed.

"Not at all my best," he admitted matching her laughter. "But seriously," he said. "I think I was nervous myself about meeting the Captain and I was trying to fish for information. Highly inappropriate," he said but flashed a grin.

Beverly smiled back. "So has it gotten any better?"

"What?"

"Your nervousness around the Captain," said Crusher lightly.

Riker frowned. "Uh…no not really," he admitted. "Should I expect it to?"

"Not really," Crusher replied, with a half-serious expression.

Her smile faded, as the lights in sickbay flickered a few times. "That's odd," she said. As she spoke the words, a wave of nausea rolled over her, and she turned to look at Riker. More nausea; as just the motion of turning her head made her gag. Riker was doubled over and groaning with his head and his hands. He struggled to look up at her and when their eyes met each recognized the same fear and confusion in the other. Someone was inside their minds.

* * *

Geordi had been wrong; 30 minutes had been just enough time to complete work on Wesley Crusher's portable tractor beam. Of course, there had been insufficient time to test the device adequately. Data locked the small energy capsule into the phaser rifle and powered it up.

He looked down at the floor, where Lt. LaForge lay in a twitching heap. Nearby Chief Engineer Argyle was slumped over his workstation. Blood ran from the man's nose. Data knew that there was nothing he could do for them now, except prevent their deaths—if he could. "Data to Captain Picard," he said, tapping his communicator. He repeated the call, but there was no answer. Data grabbed a smaller phaser from nearby, holstered it, and with another quick glance at LaForge, walked out of Engineering.

* * *

**Hey, what's up? Happy New Year 2020!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Deanna Troi was extremely relieved that she had been able to convince the children to come with her to try and hide from Ra'Val. She knew that they feared Ra'Val, but even more so, they had been conditioned to believe that they owed him allegiance. In fact, she now learned that all this time, the children had believed that Ra'Val had died on the Andorian moon. T'Kel told her that recently, she and the other children had become aware that Ra'Val had simply taken on the physical appearance of their young friend Thar. T'Kel told Troi that she now believed that her brother Ja'Nel, now comatose, had been under Ra'Val's influence when he had violently lashed out at Troi and the Captain just days ago.

It was not until Thar had disappeared a few hours ago, that the children had admitted as a group that he was not the boy they had known before the disaster on the Andorian moon. They asked Deanna about T'Pel and they revealed that they believed that she had tried to communicate to them without speaking, that Ra'Val was still alive and among them. Troi felt elated for the children because for the first time they seemed to have been released from a kind of spell. Troi tried to steer them away from the knowledge that T'Pel had confronted Ra'Val, and was now in grave danger.

Troi felt Tasha Yar's impatience emanating from the corridor as though the woman was literally tapping Troi on her shoulder. "_Alright_, we're coming," she actually said out loud. When Troi stepped out of the children's guest quarters to find Yar still waiting, she saw not anger, but worry on the Lieutenant's face. Above all else, Troi could tell that Yar did not want to see the children harmed. A three-person security team had joined them, and it was then that Yar revealed where she intended to take them.

"Inside the Jeffries tubes?" Deanna was shocked. "How will that be safe?" She was a bit claustrophobic, and the idea of having nowhere to run to and in fact having to crawl, did not appeal to her.

"I allowed you to do your job, now allow me to do mine," said Yar a bit harshly, then seemed to deliberately soften her tone. "Trust me," she said.

* * *

Lt. Commander Data was alone, or so it seemed. He was the only android member of the crew, and every crew member he passed as he walked through the ship was either unconscious or appeared to be experiencing a kind of seizure-like state. He was concerned about what might be the long-term effects of such an ordeal on a humanoid body. Data considered Ra'Val's attack and wondered why the Enterprise crew had not simply ceased to exist through the power of Ra'Val's mind, as had happened with the Andorian colony. Perhaps the larger number of people on the starship would account for the difference. Perhaps Ra'Val had been injured in his battle with T'Pel.

When he entered the observation level to investigate, Data found evidence of a devastating encounter. Judging by the large amounts of green coagulating blood on the deck, he expected to find a body, but ultimately found no one, dead or alive. Had Ra'Val killed T'Pel, he wondered? Judging by the severe psychic effects the Enterprise crew was currently experiencing, he would assume that Ra'Val had been the victor.

* * *

Beverly lay paralyzed on the floor or her sickbay, well aware that she was alive, but unable to move her frozen body. If Will Riker was still present, he must have been in the same predicament. She tried to yell to him, but her lips would not utter a sound. Gradually, a strange gray haze entered her skull, and she could see herself, much younger, alone and afraid. If she could have screamed, she would have, to avoid the most horrifying moments of her life.

_Just one week ago, she had turned eight years old. Now she sat with tousled hair upon a hillside of wet leaves and broken trees. She could no longer feel the reassuring pressure of her mother's hand in her own. She still gripped her mother's hand desperately, but the warm pulse that had always been familiar to her had now gone. What did it all mean?_

_Hours ago, before the mudslide had pushed their house and garden and her entire village through the quickly flooding valley, the three of them had tried to escape to higher ground. Soon after she had seen her father's body float away down the river, his eyes staring at the sky emptily. Her mother had bravely tried to swim out to save him from the floodwaters, but despite her efforts she had been swept back toward the shoreline twice. Beverly ran along the river banks, moving too fast to make any sound. When she finally found her mother she was pinned against the rocky shore by an immense tree branch. He mother pushed while Beverly sat on the bank and used her leverage to push the branch with her feet. They did this together for at least an hour._

_Once free and out of the frigid water, they both discovered that her mother's legs were unresponsive and she could not move them. She had never heard her mother cry until that moment, but even then it was a single, quiet sob. And then her mother whispered to her that they must get to high ground as quickly as possible. She and her mother had crawled up the hill away from the screams, and torrents of rushing waters. There were many others who had been swept away that day never to return._

_With Beverly's help, her mother had used her upper body to drag herself all the way up the hill. When they had reached the top, she watched her mother, so quiet and brave, dying in her lap. If only she knew what to do, she would have done anything in those last moments. And although Beverly's lip trembled, she did not cry._

_"Promise me you will go with your grandmother to Caldos, Beverly. You go with Nana," were her mother's last words._

_She looked up to find her grandmother's smiling face. "Nana?" Where had she come from?_

_"Yes, dear," said the old woman still smiling down at her. But as she continued to look Beverly could tell that something was different._

_"I want to go to Caldos with you. I want to get off of this hill," Beverly pleaded, shouting into the wind._

_Nana's eyes had turned black. "No, Beverly, my dear. You cannot leave this hill. Not ever." Slowly, the old woman withdrew, turning away from the child on the hill._

* * *

It hit him so quickly he was unable to react. He saw Wesley fall first, and roll against the bulkhead. Whether the boy was groaning with disorientation, pain or both, he could not tell. Picard stumbled, and his vision seemed to fade. It reminded him of his dangerous shuttle ride a few days ago. _Oh no, not again,_ he thought.

"Mr. Worf!" he called out, "I can't…" he felt his eyes roll in his head and he slowly dropped to a pushup position, and concentrated on crawling to Wesley. The teenager was twitching as though he were experiencing a seizure.

Picard continued to crawl until he reached Wesley. He turned the quivering boy toward him, and saw that the boy's eyes were shut tightly. If he was conscious, he did not appear to know where he was. He cried out and tears were streaming down his face. "Dad! Dad!" shouted the boy as though he was trying to reach his father.

"Shh, shh, Wesley, it is all- it's alright," said Picard stuttered. His teeth were beginning to chatter uncontrollably. He dragged himself to the wall and sat with his back against it, legs straight out in front of him. "Lt. Worf," he said again. Dimly, he could see Worf struggle to his feet and lean on the tactical station. Picard knew that Klingons had a greater protection from telepathy based on their cranial structure, and he hoped Worf could stay strong at least for a few more minutes.

"Yes, Captain," Worf said dully.

"In…increase speed to maximum warp. Send message to C-Captain Keel. Inform him we are under a…attack. Tell him…Ra'Val-."

"Aye sir," said Worf, his chest heaved from labored breathing, but he remained upright. "Sir…we will not be able to transport on or off the ship at that velocity."

"Damn…don't argue. Need to get to Vulcan…more quickly" Picard muttered. The pounding in his temples was growing more persistent.

"Dad, please!" Wesley cried out again. He suddenly reached up, arms flailing and then grabbed Captain Picard by the neck. Picard grabbed Wesley by the wrists, realizing for the first time how slender and light the boy was, and lifted him up to a sitting position. Eyes still closed, Wesley threw his arms around Picard's shoulders and gripped him tightly, crawling into his lap as though he were a small child. "Dad," he whispered.

Picard's brain was so much in turmoil that he did not try to reason with Wesley. His ability to build a coherent thought let alone an actual sentence seemed to be failing. He raised his hand to say something else to Worf, and that is when it finally overtook him. He jerked backward with Wesley's arms still wrapped around him tightly, and fell unconscious.

Worf slowly turned his head to look at the Captain. Now, he was the only one on the bridge awake. He noted that all other personnel were sprawled on various areas of the floor. He finished inputting the distress code to the _Horatio_, and then slumped against the tactical station.

* * *

_The battle had been won but his ship would be lost, it was now clear. The Stargazer drifted in space, disabled and soon to be forsaken by its crew. The strange horseshoe-shaped ship had taken them by surprise and fired on them while they traveled through the Maxia Zeta system. Picard had chosen to hail the ship several times, and hadn't been quick enough to avoid the first hit to the ship. He hadn't avoided the second hit either, but by then he had formulated a plan. Within seconds he had given the order and his ship went into high warp, appearing to the enemy to be in two places at once, at which point he had fired with everything they had and the enemy ship had been destroyed. But at the cost of his ship. It had been a surprise attack, but he made no excuses, and now here he sat._

_"Vigo, get to an escape pod," shouted Picard. When the security officer continued to stubbornly stand at tactical, he roared "That's an order!" It would be the last emotional outburst he would have for years afterward. He was drained, and as much as his ship was broken, so was he. He slumped back into his chair._

_His first officer, Zev had already taken the rest of the bridge crew to one of the few remaining escape pods while the rest of the ship's crew continued evacuation procedures. Shortly after she departed, a fire had broken out in engineering and was quickly rising through the decks. The bulkheads were now beginning to radiate heat onto the bridge. Picard wiped his forehead with his sleeve and coughed as smoke began to pour from a vent._

_"What about you, Captain?" demanded Vigo, stepping down from tactical and standing in front of Picard. "We've got to get out of here in case there are more of those ships out there. We'll be sitting ducks this time, sir."_

_"Have all of the decks been evacuated? "asked Picard coughing again. His throat burned from and his eyes were bleary from the acrid smell._

_"We haven't received all decks reporting in yet, sir."_  
_"Then obviously I am not leaving until everyone is away safely in an escape pod," he said without any discernible emotion._

_As the temperature on the bridge continued to increase, a strange popping sound began to shiver through the wall supports._  
_"I'm not leaving you, sir" insisted Vigo. "The ship is on fire now; she's lost, sir."_

_Picard turned in his command chair and stared Vigo down. "There is going to be a court martial, Vigo. It'll be much easier for me if I only have to explain my own actions to command. "_

_"Captain, you won't be able to explain anything at all if you're not alive to tell the story," responded Vigo._

_"I have no intention of dying just yet," Picard said calmly. But the truth was, death had been on his mind for a year now. Jack had died under his command less than a year ago, and now, well this was another kind of death, he supposed. "Go, Vigo. If you don't leave now, your career will be over. I don't want that responsibility too," he said._

_Suddenly Vigo was standing in front of him, and he stooped down to look Picard in the eyes. Vigo's hand shot out swiftly and gripped Picard by the throat. For some reason, Picard could not move his arms to defend himself. Vigo's eyes turned black and it was almost as though they were without limit. "Let go of this ship…."_

_The grip tightened and somewhere deep in his consciousness, Picard knew it was no longer the Stargazer that he needed to hold onto. "No," he choked, but Ra'Val's grip tightened._


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Commander Zatha ordered her ship the _Ishran_ out of warp at the rendezvous point just inside the Vulcan system. She then retreated to her office. Once inside she turned on her computer screen and sat down at her desk. The rendezvous point had been just at the outskirts of the Vulcan system, and it was clear that the other Andorian ships had been here for some time already. If this was the jump off point for an attack on Vulcan, it was hardly hidden from view. So why here, she wondered? Moreover, she had seen two long-range scientific probes exit the lead ship the _Striker_, an odd sight to see on the eve of battle.

She smiled thinly as an idea occurred to her. "Computer, please list the Class M planets in this sector, with the exception of Vulcan," she said.

"Tarsis, Plaxon, Lyris, Alpha Vega, Delta Vega—"

"Halt," snapped Zatha. She sat forward, hands clasped in front of her on the desk. _Delta Vega…the name was familiar to her._ _Perhaps, something from her childhood. _"Summarize the dominant geophysical attributes of the planet Delta Vega," she said.

"Delta Vega: mountainous ice planet with a uniform frigid climate zone. Average day temperature is 23 ulas; average night temperature is 5 ulas," reported the computer.

"Just as warm and toasty as my home planet," murmured Zatha, watching the scrolling information on the screen. She pulled up the list of mineral resources present on Delta Vega, but the list was a long one. "Computer…identify any minerals and ores regularly extracted by the Andorian Empire on other planets which are also native to Delta Vega."

"Searching…" said the computer. Suddenly it beeped insistently. "Albite and Trilithium,"answered the computer. Commander Zatha's skin turned a deep blue color, and her antennae flattened on top of her head. _Trilithium. Of course._

"Surprise, surprise," she said, standing up with a weary sigh. "Current mining operations on Delta Vega?"

"None," said the computer. "In 2230 the Vulcan High Council declared mining operations to be prohibited on Delta Vega. The ban has never been lifted, and generally harsh conditions on the planet have discouraged any attempts to mine illegally."

"Computer, what is the destination of the scientific probes launched from the command ship _Striker_ a few minutes ago?"

"Classified," said the computer.

"Fine," said Zatha, walking out of the room. She had just heard all of what she needed to know for now.

"Commander," said Lt. Darva, as she stepped onto the bridge. "Reports show three Starfleet ships headed to the Vulcan sector."

_Picard._ "Will they intersect with us on their present course?" she asked.

"No sir," said Darva. "The ships are headed directly for Vulcan. No doubt they will attempt to dissuade us from continuing our assault against the Vulcan murderers."

"No doubt," said Zatha drily. "I will be below decks in the brig. I have a few questions to ask my former first officer," she said, before leaving the bridge.

* * *

Deanna Troi hurried through the corridor with the Vulcan children behind her. Yar barked directions to her, as she and her security force brought up the rear. They passed more and more crew members either lying on the deck unconscious, writhing in terror as though they were facing their worst fearor seemingly paralyzed in a corner . Troi could feel the growing anxiety of the officers behind her as though they were grabbing her in a frightened embrace.

Troi knew by now that Ra'Val must have wanted to disable the entire crew. Whether Ra'Val was incapable of killing them all, or he simply did not want to kill them, she could not tell. For some reason, she and Yar and her security officers had not yet been affected. She could only guess that Ra'Val had some use for the children and had no need to harm them. All this time they had been worried about protecting the children from Ra'Val and yet ironically, by being in the vicinity of the children, she and Yar had been protected. So far.

"Stop, this is it!" said Yar, slightly out of breath. She moved quickly around Counselor Troi and opened the Jeffries Tube. "Come on, it's okay, come on," she said encouraging the children. She lifted some of them into the tube and then beckoned for Deanna to follow them. "Hurry, Counselor," urged Yar. "Hurry!" Troi scrambled up and in, and it was at that moment, that she felt him coming for all of them, like a great dark wave. She struggled to turn around and reach for Yar, but it was too late. The hatch had been slammed shut behind them. She heard shouts, phaser fire, and then silence.

* * *

Lt. Yar almost did not react when she saw him turn the corner and head toward where they stood at the utility tunnel entrance. He was suspended in mid-air and flying toward them, his grey cloak trailing behind him. Something foreign seemed to slow her mind, but something else inside her resisted, and she slammed the hatch shut and unholstered her phaser. Her officers were running toward Ra'Val, but she stayed put. She didn't want him to reach the children without having to go through her first. She was the first to fire, and shot over their heads. She hit Ra'Val in the shoulder, but somehow he seemed to just absorb the energy from the phaser. She adjusted to the strongest setting and fired again. Now following her lead, all three of her shouting officers fired at him as well.

Now hit by a volley of phaser fire, Ra'Val hovered above the three security officers and seemed to gather himself, bringing his arms into his chest and lowering his head. Yar could not see his face, as it was shadowed by a hood. She waited, breath held while her phaser cooled down enough for her to fire again. Suddenly he spread his arms out wide, and let loose a bright burst of energy. He had turned the phaser fire back against them. Yar heard the screams of her officers at the same time as they were tossed through the air and then incinerated by the force of their own weapons fire.

Yar rolled to the side and came up firing. The shot appeared to pass through Ra'Val without effect, he landed lightly on the deck on his feet, and began walking swiftly toward her. Toward the children.

"What is it you want, you sonofabitch?" screamed Yar, backing up, phaser pointing at his chest.

"For you to sleep," said Ra'Val softly, and motioned with his wrist, sending her off her feet and careening into the wall. As she slid down the wall, her eyes rolled back in her head and she twitched before becoming still.

* * *

_"Natasha, give them to me!" her sister screamed at her. Ishara, fourteen, was in one of her rages again._

_Tasha Yar, just sixteen herself, stuffed a coat into a grimy canvas bag, and turned to regard her sister. "No," she said firmly. "We said we were going to give these up, remember?" She gripped three small tubes in her palm. She could feel them cutting into her skin, and knew that if she used just one of them, most of her troubles would dissipate for a while at least. Part of her considered pocketing at least one of them for the trip off-world. But they had promised each other they would destroy their last few vials from following through. They had made those same promises before, but something had always stopped them. Now Tasha was planning on getting out of this shithole and leaving everything that reminded her of Turkana behind, including the drugs she depended on every day to dull the pain of living._

_Ishara pulled at her matted hair in irritation. "Ahh! I don't care what I fucking said before, I need them now," she snarled. "I'm in so much pain, Tasha. Give me just one, and I won't ask anymore," she pleaded, her tone suddenly changing to a little girl's voice._

_Tasha sighed. She poked her index finger into her sister's chest. "This is where your pain is, Ishara. Shooting this shit is not going to help us anymore. We need to get away from here. I told you, there's a supply freighter headed for a space station tomorrow morning and I think I can get us both on board."_

_Ishara laughed. "You don't even know where that ship is going. Probably some penal colony."_

_"Is that worse than staying here on Turkana? Come on, it leaves in a few hours," prompted Tasha._

_Ishara shrugged. "You think they're not going to notice a couple of hood rats stowing away? Besides, I'm with the Coalition now. I've got real protection now, and you can go your merry way, Tasha."_

_Tasha slammed her bag down on the floor and gritted her teeth. "Why are you being so stupid, Ish? You don't owe this place a thing, just come with me…okay?"_

_Ishara folded her arms over her chest to appear tough. It had the unintended effect of making her look even more like a dirty, scared little child. "What is your big plan anyway?" she demanded._

_"I'm going to join Starfleet as soon as I can. I can fight and shoot, so I figure they can use me," said Yar trying to act casual. In fact, she had no realistic idea of what it would be like to join Starfleet._

_Ishara snickered behind her hands. "You dummy, you have to go to Starfleet school before you go shooting up the galaxy! Even I know that. Come on Tash, they want people with brains, not dumb kids like us."_

_Tasha's face reddened, feeling her heart harden in the way it often did when she was told she was less than what she knew she was. She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Fine. I'll give you 30 seconds to decide because I'm leaving." She headed for the entryway to their little shelter under the big steel bridge. Stooping down before she opened the flap, she turned back to her sister. "The Coalition is just another gang, Ishara. They won't take care of you."_

_"But you would?" Ishara challenged her._

_"Yes," said Tasha quietly, and then dropped the vials on the floor. Before her sister could scramble over to grab them, Tasha stomped on them with her boot, smashing the containers. "Good luck," she said, and left their shelter for the last time. As she ran away into the night, she tried to shut out the screams of her little sister._

* * *

**En Route to Vulcan**

"Mr. Hakka, tell me what you know about the planet Delta Vega, and perhaps we can do something about the length of your prison sentence," Commander Zatha demanded. Lt. Hakka, her former first officer and helmsman sat in a prison cell on board the _Ishran_, looking very sullen and Zatha stood outside.

"Commander, I know nothing," said Hakka, trying to hide the disdain from his face as he regarded her.

Zatha laughed, and looked down at her feet before fixing him again with a cold stare. "Hakka, let's just come out with it. You question my loyalty to the Andorian Imperial Guard," she said.

"Yes," hissed Hakka. "I do. There is no possible way Captain Picard escaped without your assistance."

"And for what reason did we need to detain him aboard our ship?" she asked him.

"The reason does not matter, Commander. All that matters is that General Thran gave you an order and you refused it."

"You mean your uncle…General Thran is your uncle, is he not?" Asked Zatha.

"It is no secret, but yes," said Hakka.

"Yours is quite a wealthy family, Hakka," she observed, pacing around outside his cell. "A well-known mining family, in fact," she added.

Lt. Hakka blinked. "Yes. I do not follow you, however."

Instantly and without warning, the security force filed dropped, and Zatha entered the cell. As though powered by lightning, Zatha's arm shot out and grasped the top of Hakka's uniform, pushing him against the cell wall.

"If you have any information for me about any _alternative reason_ for why we have been ordered to Vulcan, it is in your best interest to tell me…now," she said with quiet anger.

A slow, slippery smile spread over Hakka's face. "I have no information for you…."

* * *

Lt. Commander Data strode through the ship's corridors with a renewed purpose. Recently he had been interested to learn that Lt. Yar and Counselor Troi remained conscious and were traveling through the ship with the Vulcan children on foot. Minutes ago Yar's message had shown up on his tricorder: _"Heading to Jeffries #16._" Data reasoned that the likelihood of Ra'Val finding the children within the next few minutes was high, so he picked up his pace and began to run.

Jeffries tube number 16 was on the engineering level. He noted burn marks-signs of erratic phaser fire all over the walls, ceiling and deck. As he rounded the corner still at a run, he saw that Ra'Val was floating over what appeared to be an unconscious Deanna Troi and the group of Vulcan children. The children sat cross-legged in a circle, awake and gazing up at Ra'Val as though transfixed. Even for Data, it was a mesmerizing sight. Ra'Val seemed to be unaware of Data's presence.

Yar was crumpled against the wall, head lolling on her shoulder, clearly unconscious. He quietly walked toward her and bent down to feel her pulse. She appeared to have sustained a head injury, but her pulse was strong. He decided against moving her. Straightening, Data powered up the phaser rifle. He knew he would have only three shots before the weapon overheated. And because his goal was to capture Ra'Val with the force field, he knew accuracy would be paramount.

Ra'Val turned at the sound of the power cell turning on and rose up into the air over Data. His eyes were black and it seemed clear to Data that Ra'Val was attempting to use his power on Data's positronic brain. A look of confusion briefly passed over the Vulcan's face, and then he seemed to understand. He threw his arms out in a tossing motion, and Data was lifted off of his feet and thrown toward Yar's inert body. At that same instant, Data fired a burst from the rifle and the energy field struck Ra'Val on the side of his body, spinning him around in the air. He emitted a low grunting sound.

Data rolled toward the bulkhead and carefully avoided slamming into Yar. Before he could get to his feet, Ra'Val was standing over him. Ra'Val held his arms wide and then closed them in a clapping motion and Data was thrown upwards at an alarming speed, and was slammed into the ceiling. He heard the material of the ceiling groan with the impact, and he fell to the deck hard. He fired the phaser rifle at Ra'Val a second time, but the shot missed. Ra'Val advanced on him, and Data felt his limbs being pushed to the floor of the corridor, as Ra'Val exerted the force of his power. Nearly immobilized, Data watched as Ra'Val kicked the phaser out of the way, and then stepped full force onto Data's forehead, removing part of his artificial skin covering.

Suddenly Ra'Val let out a cry, and went hurtling over Data's head. It was T'Pel. She had come running from the opposite direction and slammed into Ra'Val's back as he stood over Data. There was a sickening snapping sound as they flew over Data's head. Data heard a scuffle, and as he rose to his feet and scrambled to gather up the abandoned phaser rifle, he turned to find T'Pel had pinned her brother down with what was left of her robotic arm. It also appeared to Data, that Ra'Val's back was broken.

"Thank you, T'Pel," said Data. "I recommend standing aside," he added. She leapt out of the way, as he fired the third shot at Ra'Val and the Vulcan was enveloped in a bluish energy field.

* * *

Beverly inhaled raggedly, and her eyes snapped open. She blinked a few times. She had been dreaming. The right side of her face was pressed against the floor of sickbay. She coughed and pushed herself up to a sitting position, moving her legs underneath her. Will Riker was stretching his arms and stiffly getting to his feet. He looked as though he was coming out of a daze. They looked at each other and exchanged weak smiles, hoping that for the moment the worst was over.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_"Dad! I can't" he shouted._

_"You'll be okay, Wes. I promise," his father had called up to him. "Just jump!" Jack Crusher had encouraged him, raising his arms up offering to catch his son. But it was too far, and Wesley began to cry. How did he even get up there? He heard his mother say, sounding more than a little annoyed. Or maybe she was afraid, he couldn't tell. And even more strangely, he could not see her. "Wes, you have to jump, I can't come up there after you," his father shouted again._

_"Dad! I can't do it," Wesley shouted back._

_"Wes, I have to leave. I can't stay here anymore," said Jack Crusher._

_"Why, Dad?"_

_"Wes, I'm not supposed to be here anymore. You will have to do it on your own," his father called out. To his dismay, his father turned away and began to walk in the other direction. Wesley could see that where the grassland ended, there was a plane of stars, which his father continued to walk towards._

_"Dad!" he screamed. If his father was not careful, he was going to fall off the edge of the grass and into the stars._

_Jack turned around to look at his son with a smile. "It's okay, Wesley," he reassured his son. "This is where I am going next. This is where I am supposed to be." No matter how much he called after him his father continued to walk away, leaving him up in the tree. Suddenly his father disappeared into the stars._

_Wes knew that the only way out of the tree was to jump, but he was so small, he feared he would break his legs when he landed. Suddenly he slipped and began to skid down the tree, scraping his knees. Somehow the branches of the tree stopped his fall. To his surprise, the tree's branches gripped his body firmly yet almost comfortingly. It seemed that the tree was breathing. Realizing that he was gripping the tree in return, he loosened his own fingers in an attempt to free himself. The pressure from the grip around his body lessened somewhat and he shifted his weight downward. His feet dangled as he strained to reach the ground. Seeing he only had a few feet to go, he bent his knees and dropped the rest of the way, landing on soft ground._

* * *

"Ow. Please watch your knee," he heard a deep voice growl. Wesley opened his eyes slowly and inhaled. Gradually his eyes grew used to the light and he was mortified to find that he was sitting on someone's lap in plain view of the rest of the bridge personnel. The person's arms which had been gripping him very tightly, now completely let him go. Wesley's mortification increased when he realized that this particular lap was Captain Picard's. Wesley rolled away on to the floor in alarm.

"Oof, "said the Captain, rubbing his eyes groggily. The rest of the present bridge crew were either lying on the deck just waking up, or had staggered to their feet.  
Picard stood to his feet and reached a hand out to Wesley, who reluctantly took it and got to his feet. Captain Picard seemed slightly uncomfortable, but seemed to have other concerns as he turned away to find Lt. Worf who was again at tactical.

"Report," he said, blinking away the haze that had cloaked his mind for at least an hour.

Worf read Data's report from his station. "Lt. Commander Data and Commander Riker report that Ra'Val is in custody in cargo bay four Captain. He is severely injured and is being held inside the energy field. An additional radiation field has been placed around him for additional security. Counselor Troi and the Vulcan children were not harmed, sir. At least three security officers are missing and presumed killed, Captain. Data, T'Pel and Lt. Yar sustained non-fatal injuries. Personnel now reporting in from all main departments and all decks. Mostly minor injuries, Captain, and no civilian casualties to speak of sir," said Worf. "Ship's systems operational…still on course to Vulcan at warp ten sir." A now familiar beeping sound issued from ops.

"Captain, we are being hailed by the _Horatio_, sir."

Picard walked over to the command chair and sat down heavily. His legs felt like rubber and though he tried to ignore it, his right leg injury throbbed worse than it had before he had fallen unconscious. He straightened in the chair. Behind him the doors swished open and commander Riker stepped out looking somewhat dazed. Picard turned his head to nod briefly at Riker, who sat down wearily next to the Captain. "On screen Mr. Worf," Picard said.

Momentarily Walker Keels image flashed onto the screen and he looked grim.

"I assume you've taken Ra'Val into custody?" said Keel.

"Yes," said Picard.

"Interesting move there, Jean-Luc: hailing my ship in a situation where I could be of no help to you."

Picard smiled slightly. "Pardon?"

Walker made a face. "You ordered the Enterprise into maximum warp, before hailing us. There was no way short of firing on you to slow you down enough for us to board."

Picard sat forward in his chair, his smile fading. "I thought it a wiser move than slowing down and allowing you to compromise yourself and your own crew, Walker. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to help us. And...we had our own plan."

Walker frowned. "As much as I hate to admit it Jean-Luc, you were right. Again," he conceded. "Unfortunately Starfleet command isn't as impressed. They question why you brought Ra'Val on board in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Picard said frowning. "We certainly did not bring him aboard knowingly, Walker. He disguised himself as a little boy-a little boy whom we were ordered to rescue, I might add."  
Walker nodded. "I know, Jean-Luc. But the problem now according to Command is that because Ra'Val got loose your entire crew was compromised psychologically."  
"And?"  
"And... everyone in your command crew has been ordered to undergo fitness for duty examinations..."

"Walker, my Chief Medical Officer was compromised along with the rest of us."

"Understood. My ship's doctor will beam over and can handle the exams."

"And? What else?" Picard prompted him, standing up.

"I've been ordered to take command of the _Enterprise_ until we meet up with the _Columbia_ at Vulcan."  
Riker stood up. "What?!" Picard motioned for him to sit back down but then turned back to regard Walker questioningly.  
"Walker, this is highly irregular" he protested.  
"Captain, maybe we should finish the rest of this conversation over a secure channel."  
"You can say anything you need to in front of my crew," snapped Picard.

"Jean-Luc, it's not you or your crew I'm worried about."

* * *

Minutes later, Picard and Riker stood in the Captain's ready room, and Walker Keel's image had been transferred to a smaller screen. "What is this all about, Walker," Picard demanded.

"As I said, I'm to take command temporarily. Once you are cleared for duty, you should be able to take command again once we reach Vulcan."  
"What do you mean I _should_ be able to take command again? Who is behind this?"

"Admiral Imhoff has ordered a brief inquiry into your actions with regard to Ra'Val. You'll have to find out the rest of the details from the Admiral, I'm afraid. Please drop out of warp and I'll beam over shortly. Keel out." The screen went black.

Picard ran his hand over his face in frustration, and then to Riker's mild shock he began to laugh. "Oh, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said, still chuckling as Riker watched him with interest. It had been obvious to him from the start that Admiral Imhoff had not wanted him in command of the Enterprise. Picard actually wondered now if the entire mission had been meant to set him up to fail. Apparently ancient history was not easily forgotten.

He should have known Imhoff would try and get his way. He sighed and then quickly composed himself. "Well…" he said, turning to Riker. "I suppose this means we are soon to be off duty, at least temporarily. Please make the appropriate arrangements for the relief bridge crew, Commander," he added. Riker nodded and turned as if to leave.

"Oh…Commander, you are alright aren't you?" Picard asked.

Riker smiled. "Yes, sir, thank you for asking. It was definitely not a pleasant experience though…" He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd dreamed of his father. They'd been on a mountain top in Alaska, and Will had just been a teenager. It was a memory, but something about it hadn't been quite right, and had ended in a terrifying manner. But he couldn't tell anyone about it. Not yet.

Picard inhaled slowly. "Agreed," he said. He lowered his head slightly. "You were in sick bay when it…when it all happened? Did you—"

"Doctor Crusher seems to be alright, sir," Riker offered quickly.

Again to Riker's surprise, Picard's face displayed intense relief. He nodded curtly, looking slightly embarrassed. "Very good," he said. "Thank you."

Riker nodded and exited the ready room.

* * *

"Who usually assists you with your maintenance, Commander?" Crusher asked, carefully examining the flap of "skin" that had exposed Data's scalp. The blinking lights that were apparently normally hidden by his hair were utterly fascinating to see. Too bad Data had to have been injured in order for her to see them. Crusher tried not to stare.

Data looked puzzled. "I have always completed my own diagnostics and minor repairs, Doctor. This is in fact the first time in which I have been…wounded in this way. I have never required assistance with my systems before now."

"As bad as it looks, Data, how does it feel?" she asked honestly because she had no idea.

Data opened his mouth as if to say something and then frowned. "To be exact, Doctor Crusher, I do not _feel _anything. However, I do have neuro-pathways which approximate your nerves. And those indicate that my injuries are relatively minor."

"Ah," said Crusher with a small smile. She patted Data lightly on the shoulder. "To use exact medical terminology then, you're going to be okay," she said. "But," she said, checking her tricorder. "We still have the problem of putting your head back together, if you will excuse my crude way of putting it," she added.

"That is in fact an accurate statement," said Data.

"I could give it a try." Data and Crusher both turned to see Lt. LaForge, who was sitting up on a nearby biobed. "I'm pretty good with repairs, and you know, I could give it a try," he offered easily.

Crusher raised her eyebrows and looked at Data, as if to say "it's up to you."

"I am willing," said Data. Geordi nodded and hopped off the bed to attend to his friend.

* * *

Crusher stood worriedly over the sleeping form of Tasha Yar. The young woman had sustained severe bruises to the back of her neck and a substantial concussion from her confrontation with Ra'Val. But it was clear that Yar was a fighter, and within a few days she would recover fully.

T'Pel was another story completely. Crusher moved to her side and switched on the diagnostic diagram. Leaning in, Crusher could see that while her vital signs were stabilizing, she had sustained considerable damage to her spine, which Crusher was optimistic would not be permanent. Her body had impacted something, perhaps a wall, which was not meant to be crashed through by a living body, and it had taken Crusher some time, but she believed she had stopped most of the internal bleeding. Her left arm, a mechanized prosthetic, had been nearly demolished, and would need to be reconstructed. Crusher sighed and straightened up.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her son approaching. She rushed to him and hugged him fiercely. Pulling away she looked at his face and smoothed his hair. "Are you alright?" she asked, trying to stay calm. Wesley nodded yes, but she quickly ran her tricorder over him anyway. Happily, she learned, he was telling the truth. For some reason he repeatedly shifted his gaze, which he did typically when he was trying to keep something from her.

Given the variety of bizarre visions and highly emotional dreams she herself had experienced, she decided to leave the topic of whatever Wesley had experienced while unconscious for a later conversation. She hugged him again, glad that they were both alive. Over his shoulder she noticed Captain Picard walk in to sick bay. She noted that despite his assurances about feeling better, he was limping, favoring his left leg slightly.

Her heart leaped in her chest, and she watched him as she continued to hold on to Wesley almost reflexively. Picard began speaking to Data in a low voice, while Geordi continued his repairs. After a few moments, she saw Picard reach out and shake Data's hand briefly, and he patted Geordi's shoulder before walking away.

"Mom," said Wesley, sounding muffled. "You can let go of me now."

"Sorry," she said, letting him go. Picard was approaching them both now, but his eyes rested on T'Pel's unconscious shape on the recovery bed.

"Oh no," said Wesley under his breath. He was absolutely freaked out that the Captain might mention what had happened on the bridge.

"Doctor, Mr. Crusher," Picard said in greeting, as he neared. "Good to see you both are well." Wesley was relieved that the Captain decided not to reveal to his mother that Wesley had spent the afternoon sitting on his lap.

"Yes, Captain, we're fine," said Beverly quickly and then fell silent.

"Wesley, will you excuse us for a moment?" said Picard. Before Wesley could say anything, they had stepped away to a nearby corner.

* * *

"Doctor, how are T'Pel and Lt. Yar?" He rubbed his chin and nodded as she explained their prognoses to him. "I cannot believe she had the strength to stop him—with Data's help of course. But based on Data's description of the events, he had only one shot left and the weapon was out of his hands when she arrived. She certainly came through for us."

Crusher shook her head. "Jean-Luc, somehow I think that unlike everyone else you never had any doubt that she would."

He smiled wryly. "No, I suppose I never had a doubt, despite everything." He cleared his throat. "But, something else has come up. Starfleet has ordered the command officers, including yourself to undergo fitness for duty tests before returning to duty. Doctor Tamsen from the Horatio will determine whether we are ready to return to duty, and we've dropped out of warp for the moment." He paused and a look of frustration crossed his features.

She searched his eyes. "Jean-Luc, there is something you're not telling me."

"They've put Walker in command of the _Enterprise_ until we reach Vulcan at least," he said heavily.

She laughed lightly. "Is that all? Captain, I am sure that within a few hours you will be back in charge."

He looked away. "I am not so certain about that," he said. "My days as Captain of the Enterprise could be numbered, Beverly. It's something I should have expected. I just wanted you to know," he added, turning back to look at her. He smiled tightly but there was a degree of pain in his eyes that she couldn't miss.

Her smile faded. "After all that, they're just going to take it away from you?" She shook her head. "After all you've given Starfleet…damn them," she said with quiet anger. Her features softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry this is happening. If there is anything I can do…"

He smiled faintly at her. "I appreciate that, Beverly. But for now, please just carry on as you have. And make sure you get some rest. As of now, you're off duty." With that he turned and walked out of sick bay.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The crew passed the relatively brief physical and psychological tests with ease and most were returned to active duty within a few hours. Picard sat in his quarters shortly after passing his own tests. Technically he had been cleared for duty and yet, Walker was still in command the _Enterprise_ and had been ordered by Admiral Imhoff to resume their course to Vulcan at warp nine. Walker's first officer had for the moment, assumed command of the _Horatio_, also on course for Vulcan.

According to the latest reports, which Picard read because he didn't have anything better to do, near Vulcan, cooler heads had prevailed so far, and although still on the verge of war, no overtly aggressive moves had been made yet by either side.

Perhaps, thought Picard, the Andorians would see reason once they had proof that Ra'Val had been captured and placed in custody. Perhaps if the Vulcan High Council would allow Ra'Val to be extradited to Andoria for trial the hostilities between would be lessened. How someone this dangerous could be safely tried he wasn't sure. At any rate, there was nothing he could do about it at this time, given his current predicament.

Walker had informed him that Ra'Val was now being attended to by medical personnel and it was clear that his back had been broken. Despite his serious injuries, he did not appear to be at risk of dying, it seemed. With Data's assistance, Dr. Crusher had was now periodically administering an airborne analgesic to kill any pain he may be experiencing. Perhaps more than a known mass murderer deserved.

But increasingly it bothered him to picture Beverly near Ra'Val at all even if he was severely injured and immobilized by an energy field. He put the thoughts out of his mind. Of course, she was just another officer under his command, wasn't she? He couldn't protect her any more than he could anyone else. He reassured himself that his concerns about her were valid and objective, not emotional. He had rarely acted on emotion before so why did he feel differently now? It confused and frustrated him at a time when he needed to have a clear head. And he had discovered years ago that he almost never had a clear head when thinking about Beverly Crusher.

As he sat quietly, he tried not to let recent events disturb him. This situation was not permanent, he told himself. He hadn't lost the Enterprise yet, but over the years he had learned when to fight and when to wait. Now it was time to wait. The door chime startled him. "Come," he called out, and without further invitation, Walker Keel strolled in.

Walker approached and sat down across from him in the living room. "Jean-Luc, how are you?" his friend asked, leaning forward and peering at him more cautiously than was probably necessary.

Picard leaned back and exhaled. "I'm fine, Walker, what brings you here?" He answered evenly.

Walker paused. "I know we both know that your return to command will happen soon enough, but …I have to say, my friend, you seem to be taking this really well, considering the circumstances."

Picard gestured with his hands as though mystified. "Walker, what did you expect? That I was going to cry and stomp my feet until I got my way?"

"Well...maybe no crying..." allowed Walker with a slight smile, trying unsuccessfully to inject humor into the situation.

Picard was not laughing. He clasped his hands together in his lap. "The fact is… I'm not at all surprised that this is happening."

Walker fixed him with a probing look. "What are you talking about Jean-Luc?"

"It's nothing," said Picard looking down at his hands. "Ancient history, " he murmured.

Walker nodded slowly. "It's Imhoff, isn't it? What is he holding over your head?"

Picard stared at Walker as though he suddenly had no idea what his old friend was talking about.

Walker pushed himself to his feet in frustration. "Fine, be that way, Jean-Luc. You never change, you know that? I'm your friend, but most of the time I might as well be a goddamn stranger."

Picard remained still and looked up at his friend. "Walker, you sound ridiculous," he said dismissively.

"Oh I sound ridiculous, do I? I'm being _honest_ with you, Jean-Luc. Maybe your inability to be honest with yourself is the problem, Jean-Luc. You're being dishonest with me about this Imhoff situation, dishonest about your anger about being _unfairly_ stripped of your command, dishonest with Beverly about your feelings for her. Really, Jean-Luc, stop being such a coward—" Walker knew he should regret the dig about Beverly which he had added in just for good measure, but really he didn't regret it. Not even remotely.

Picard leaped to his feet and for a brief instant, Walker thought Jean-Luc was actually going to hit him. Instead, he spoke with simmering anger. "Get the hell out of here," he said.

After Walker left, he went into his room and lay down, dimming the lights. His goal was to clear his mind and get some rest. But his thoughts kept returning to what Walker had said: "…_stop being such a coward…._" Damn Walker Keel; he always seemed to provoke him in the most irritating ways to think about things he did not want to think about. Picard knew his friend had his best interests in mind, but this knowledge did nothing to make him feel better. And this was because even before Walker had pointed it out, he had been thinking the same thing about himself. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, the kind he experienced only when arguing with himself, he fell asleep, but it was not to be restful.

* * *

_After Vigo reluctantly left with the others in the final escape pod, Picard had stood in the middle of the bridge of the Stargazer and all around him, the heat from the Engineering fire was becoming unbearable. He watched the pod appear on the viewscreen suddenly as it was ejected from the ship carrying the last of his bridge crew to safety. Anyone left on this ship is dead, he thought morbidly. He knew it was a possibility that he would soon join them if he did not act fast. He began to cough from the exertion of trying to breathe through the billowing smoke. All he had to do was head for an escape pod and then watch his ship explode from a safe distance. But something made him do something else. He didn't know why he made the decision then to do what he did. And every decision he made afterward had consequences which followed him year after year. He couldn't lose the ship. Not now that he had lost almost everything else._

_A sense of urgency spurred him forward. Running to a storage locker just off the bridge, he grabbed a spacesuit and helmet; the kind rarely used for emergency repairs to the outer hull. He pulled it over his body and fitted the helmet on. Locking it into place, the seal hissed, and the pressure inside the suit caused it to hug closer to his body. His breath immediately fogged up the glass on his helmet and he could see on the controls that the temperature outside his suit was 130 degrees Fahrenheit and rising. He poked at some controls on the forearm of his suit, turning on the internal fan. A cooling sensation ran over his limbs and extremities, and for a second he felt the need to relieve his bladder. Thankfully the sensation passed. He checked the air meter for the suit and_ _it blinked at 10 minutes. Ten minutes seemed quite unfair, but it would have to be more than enough time, he told himself. _

_Knowing the turbo lifts were non-operational, he ran to a utility ladder and slid down the next level. He repeated this act of running to a utility ladder on each level and sliding down to the level below as fast as possible. This seemed an endless and thankless game. Finally, when his boots landed on the engineering level, he noted that six minutes had passed already. Only four minutes left. Hurry up, he told himself. _

_That was when he heard the voice in his headset. "Captain Picard, please come in." It was the voice of Zev, his first officer. She had boarded an escape pod with other crew members more than 30 minutes ago. It seemed so long ago. He tried to blink the sweat out of his eyes. His breath was rapid, nearly out of control as he searched for a hatch, trying not to become so frantic that he failed to think properly. "Captain Picard, do you read me?" Zev's worried voice sounded again through the communicator in his helmet._

_He clumsily tripped over something soft and landed on the deck. Through the smoke, he saw that what he had tripped over had been a person. It was the assistant chief engineer, Marcus; just a young man at the time of death, and his eyes stared vacantly at Picard. He saw no accusation in those eyes, but they would forever haunt him. His gaze fell several feet away, and he now saw that there were many more shapes lying still on the deck. All dead. _

_As he pushed himself to his feet but he began to hyperventilate and could see little through the smoke and flames that roared through engineering. The fire was nearing the warp core now. "Captain Picard, we are being hailed by Starfleet command," said Zev's voice again. "All escape pods are clear from the ship now sir. We should be safe if the Stargazer is destroyed, but you must leave now." He shook his head silently in disagreement. Two minutes of air was left in his suit._

_His breath came quickly now, and he struggled to gulp in slower breaths to calm himself and conserve oxygen. He saw the hatch and ran toward it. "Captain Picard! This is Admiral Imhoff. We are prepared to take on all survivors at Starbase 413. Transports and medical teams are headed your way. You are ordered to leave your ship, __**now**__." _

_Picard punched in a command code and then manually released the emergency bolts on the hatch, and watched as orange lights blinked on and off. "Stand clear… stand clear," the computer droned repeatedly. He ran back to the utility ladder he had slid down and wrapped his arms and legs around it._

_"__Picard you fool, what are you doing?" shouted Imhoff. "Get off the ship!"_

_He watched with light-headed fascination as the emergency hatch blew out into space, and everything that was not bolted down, or gripping a utility ladder slid toward the hatch at great speed. His legs floated up in sudden weightlessness. Most importantly, the fire was immediately extinguished, as the air rushed out into the void of space._

* * *

He sat up in bed, wheezing desperately. Slowly, realizing where he was, his chest stopped burning. That was where this recurring dream always ended. Of course, he had reached a small escape pod, had gotten free of the ship and joined the rest of his crew. The ship had drifted away, battered and decidedly broken, but because he had managed to extinguish the fire, the core had been saved, and ultimately so had the_ Stargazer_.

He'd been questioned about it for months even before the formal court-martial inquiry into the _Stargazer's_ loss. Why didn't he leave with the others? Why didn't he answer when called on his communicator? The only answer he'd been able to come up with when questioned by Admiral Imhoff that first day on Starbase 413, was that "the communicator must have malfunctioned, sir". Yes, he had lied and had never admitted it to anyone, not even Walker. He could have acknowledged the order from Imhoff sooner, but he chose not to. The truth was that for reasons he might never understand he had been ready to die on the _Stargazer_ that day.

An insistent chirp sounded through his quarters. "Riker to Captain Picard…"

"Go ahead, Number One," he said, pulling on clean black pants and a shirt.

"I know you're not officially on duty yet sir, but I just wanted to let you know that we've reached Vulcan," said Riker. "And sir, there is something very odd happening in cargo bay 4 sir," he added.

* * *

Picard walked swiftly into the cargo bay where Ra'Val was being kept inside the floating energy field. "What is going on?" he demanded when he reached Doctor Crusher. Two armed security officers stood stoically on either side of her. Crusher didn't immediately seem to hear Picard, and she was staring at someone standing next to the energy field. He followed her eyes, and then rushed forward. It was T'Pel. She, in turn, was staring into the globe of energy that was keeping Ra'Val and she was still dressed in her hospital clothing.

"She hasn't spoken a word, Jean-Luc," said Crusher. "She just suddenly got up from the bed and walked here. Naturally, I followed her."

Picard resisted the urge to tell her to be more careful, but he reasoned to himself, after all, she had brought security personnel with her, what other precautions could she have taken? He moved and consciously placed himself in front of Beverly. "T'Pel, what are you doing?" he demanded, careful not to yell and startle her. T'Pel did not turn around but merely pointed at Ra'Val. Picard felt his stomach drop. Ra'Val still appeared to be unconscious, but his robes were now gone and he was curled in a sort of fetal position, facing away from them. No bruises appeared on his back, and most bizarrely, his spine was glowing iridescently under his skin.

Data walked up behind him, tricorder whirring in his hand.

"What on earth…" Picard muttered, still staring.

"If I had to guess, sir," said Crusher, "I would say he is re-generating, even re-growing his spine."

"Is the field holding?" he asked Data.

The android looked up from reading the tricorder. "Yes, sir," he said. "The field strength remains at one hundred percent."

"Good," said Picard. "Make sure we continue to monitor the field strength—" he turned as quick footsteps echoed behind him.

"Captain Picard, perhaps I did not make it clear enough to you that you no longer have authority to give orders on board this ship." Admiral Imhoff halted in front of him, looking typically severe. Next to him stood an unfamiliar looking male officer, dressed in security gold, and holding a large datapad. "You are ordered to report to quarters until further notice. I am taking command now," Imhoff finished with a thin smile.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

_The feel of her hands on his back was like cool silk. They had agreed that no one else should find out about this. Just as their breathing quickened and they fell into sync, the door hissed open behind them, and they separated, both breathless. His perspiration turned instantly cold on his skin and for a moment he thought his heart was going to come thumping out of his chest. Beverly clutched the covers up to her chin and stared grimly at the door. _

_He turned in slow motion, attempting to cover himself, and that was when he saw the man walk through the door, phaser leveled at his naked chest. A ragged gash ran down the length of the man's face from his scalp to his chin. A gaping wound covered most of his lower torso. His eyes were lifeless but somehow were still filled with hatred. "Jean-Luc, couldn't you have at least waited until I was buried?" Jack Crusher's face contorted into a sneer as he fired the weapon, and Jean-Luc felt it burn straight into his heart. The blast spun him back around, and he fell face-first on to the bed. The last thing he heard was Beverly screaming._

* * *

His eyes snapped open, and he knew immediately that someone was there with him. He was lying face down on his bed, and the entire front of his body was covered in sweat. "Who's there?" he mumbled and pushed himself up slowly. A hooded figure stood in the early morning darkness. "T'Pel? Is that you?" He coughed and twisted around to an awkward sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and sore. He dragged a hand down his cheek. Had he been crying? _Only in my dreams_, he thought sourly.

T'Pel stepped forward. "You were dreaming," she observed quietly.

Picard sniffed in. The air was too dry. "Yes," he said. "And I can't thank you enough for waking me up," he said honestly. "Since your brother has made his presence known I've had a number of disturbingly real dreams."

"Yes," said T'Pel. "There are stray psychic strands of Ra'Val's power still circulating on this ship, Jean-Luc. Despite his imprisonment, he is still able to affect the psyche of anyone on this ship, including me. If you try to hide your innermost fears and desires, his power will only become more controlling. My brother is extremely powerful, but he is not the only one to blame for bad dreams," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"You were dreaming of Beverly Crusher," she said.

He exhaled and looked down at the covers twisting them in his hands. Then he stood up suddenly and threw his sheets onto the floor. "What are you inside my goddamn head now too?"

He tightened his bathrobe around himself angrily and walked over to the replicator. Lingering pain shot through his right leg and took his weight off of it, limping. Somehow his leg was getting worse, not better. All from a little scratch, he thought bitterly. "Water, cold," he snapped, and with a shimmer, a full glass of water appeared. He grabbed it and gulped it down fast.

T'Pel continued to speak. "As long as you deny your feelings for Beverly, you will continue to suffer, Jean-Luc."

He turned around and stared at her. "_Me_, deny my feelings? What the hell do you know about feelings? You have practiced all your life to push away your own feelings and now you have the nerve to tell me how to face mine?"

"Perhaps the way that a Vulcan best handles her emotions is not the way that a Human should handle his," said T'Pel.

"Why not, I learned from the best," he snapped at her. "Do you think it was easy being in a relationship with you?"

"You are not a Vulcan, Jean-Luc. You cannot, and should not control your emotions to the detriment of yourself…or those around you."

He stared at her but felt the anger slowly ebb. He wondered if it was something she was doing to his mind, or maybe it was just the words she had spoken that had the effect of calming him down. But yet, something in his mind protested, insisted on not being wrong. He looked at his friend in the eye, attempting some semblance of credibility when he quickly said, "I don't love her," in a low voice.

"Just because one says a thing, does not make it a fact," said T'Pel. "Do you forget that when you and I were together nearly twenty years ago, you denied your feelings for Beverly? I did not believe you then, and I do not believe you now," she said firmly, but without anger.

Picard folded his arms over his chest defensively, feeling as though he had just been exposed for a fraud. The only thing to do was to change the subject. "Surely this is not the only reason you came to wake me up at 0400 hours?"

T'Pel nodded. "Can we trust Admiral Imhoff?" she asked, quickly getting to the point.

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Who is 'we'?"

"You and I," she said. "The crew of this ship. Why did he remove you from command?"

Picard made a face. "I am the wrong person to ask about this, T'Pel."

"No," said T'Pel. "You are clearly the only person with whom I should inquire about this matter."

He drank another glass of water. "I suppose that at the very least, I owe you an explanation after everything you've been through over the past few days. Not to mention the fact that I haven't fully thanked you for risking everything to bring your brother into custody."

T'Pel nodded ever-so-slightly but said nothing.

He looked up at the ceiling. "Imhoff detests me. He once called me 'the most arrogant man to ever put on a Starfleet uniform', and swore that he would expose me for what I really was. To put it mildly, he thinks that I am not fit to command the new flagship," he said. T'Pel merely watched him waiting for further explanation. "It has to do with the loss of the _Stargazer_… I disobeyed his order to leave the ship."

"How curious. In the official transcript from the court-martial proceeding, you testified that you did not hear the order. Specifically, you said that the communications headset inside your helmet had malfunctioned. Did you lie?"

"Yes," he said. It was the first time he had admitted that fact to anyone but himself, and to some degree, it was a relief. "I lied."

"So if you did hear Imhoff order you to leave the _Stargazer_, then why did you not obey his order?"

He shook his head. She just glided from one uncomfortable topic to the next. "I can't tell you that, T'Pel, because I don't know."

"Even if you search your feelings?"

"I don't want to search my feelings, and that is the truth. But the point is that Imhoff does not want to see me successful, and to him, success is equated with commanding the _Enterprise_. As far as I know, this is his primary motivation."

"And do you believe that if your lie is exposed, you will lose command permanently?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

T'Pel walked toward him. "There is something else, Jean-Luc. My brother is still a great danger. To this ship, to the Andorians, and to the people of Vulcan. As long as he lives, I do not believe that anyone is safe. And yet, I am not prepared to kill my brother, despite his actions."

"What do you recommend?"

"I will recommend to Admiral Imhoff that Ra'Val be transferred to a high-security cell on Vulcan and then brought before the Vulcan High Council. They will decide his fate."

"T'Pel, I don't know if that will be acceptable; to either the Vulcan or Andorian governments. We are trying to avoid a war here. And if the Andorians object to your plan, you may just start one."

"Nevertheless, Captain, I need to know whether or not you will support me or stand in my way."

Picard frowned. "T'Pel, are you planning to circumvent the High Council? That may prove dangerous, given that they are the ones who sent you on this mission."

T'Pel studied his face for a moment and then backed away. "Perhaps I was mistaken…now is not the time to speak of this," she said, pulling the hood back over her face. Before he could say another word, she left his quarters.

* * *

Commander Riker sat in the Captain's ready room waiting expectantly but not particularly patiently. In Captain Picard's usual chair sat Admiral Imhoff. The Admiral had asked Riker to come in minutes ago, and since then he had been sitting there wondering what the hell was going on, and what was going to happen next. So far, not a word passed between them. Between the recent capture of Ra'Val and the sudden removal of Captain Picard from command of the Enterprise, Riker and the rest of the crew had been thrown from elation to uncertainty within a matter of hours.

More than anything, Riker wondered what could have happened to justify removing Picard from duty so suddenly. Certainly, the Captain had hardly mentioned it, and it was nearly impossible to know what the man was thinking. He had already learned that if Picard did not want to communicate, he could not be prodded into doing so. It was almost as difficult to comprehend how a Captain with nearly legendary status in Starfleet could be removed from command so easily with little or no explanation. Although it may not have been his place to ask, and hell, he barely even knew Picard; he asked anyway.

"I hope that Captain Picard's absence from the bridge won't be too long Admiral", he ventured carefully.

Admiral Imhoff looked up from his work and fixed Riker with a steely glare. "What is it to you? You've practically just met the man."

"Some of the crew is already asking questions, sir. They miss his presence, Admiral."

"Miss him? They haven't even known Picard long enough to miss him." Imhoff scoffed.

Riker took a deep breath. "Sir, this may be difficult for you to believe, but in less than two weeks, Captain Picard has gained the loyalty of this crew."

Imhoff smiled unpleasantly. "It _is_ difficult for me to understand. You see, I have known Jean-Luc Picard for years and it has always bothered me how such a…arrogant and cold man can inspire loyalty wherever he goes."

Riker said nothing. He supposed that Picard was a bit…detached.

Imhoff stood up. "Enough talk about Picard, and I suggest you get your mind back on the mission, Commander. Now I want suggestions from you on how to avert a war."

Riker stood up, and draped his hands behind his back. "We need to let the Andorians know that we have Ra'Val, sir. If they see him in custody, they may re-focus on bringing him to trial, instead of blaming an entire planet for his crimes."

Imhoff nodded slowly. "It's a start," he admitted.

"I recommend contacting Commander Zatha, sir. She commands the lead cruiser, the _Ishran_, and can be reasoned with," said Riker. He considered mentioning that Captain Picard had been the one to reason with her, but decided against it.

"Zatha? Didn't she try to imprison Picard aboard her ship?" Imhoff was incredulous.

"Well…according to the Captain that order came from an Andorian General and Zatha gave him something of a…head start, I guess you would say."

Imhoff smiled craftily. "Really…a possible ally. Well, good then. Let's bring the Andorians aboard," said Imhoff sounding rather pleased with himself.

Riker nodded. "Aye, sir."

* * *

He had finished his breakfast minutes ago. Now Wesley crusher sat with the side of his temple propped on his fist, repeatedly lifting and dropping the handle of his spoon on the edge of the empty cereal bowl with his other hand. Had his mother been in the room, she would have yelled at him by now to 'cut it out'.

Beverly Crusher walked into their quarters after answering an early emergency call in sickbay. A pregnant woman had gone into labor prematurely, but everything had gone more smoothly than she had expected and her patient had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. She couldn't help but wonder whether the stress of the last few days had caused the early birth, but she supposed that it was to be expected. It was not the first time that she understood the Captain's objections to having civilian crew members aboard.

She sat down at the table across from Wesley, and he barely looked up from tapping with his spoon when she entered. She began peeling an orange as she watched him with barely contained annoyance. "Something on your mind?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice from betraying her fatigue and irritation. They had all been pushed to the limit psychologically over the past 48 hours, and she knew her son was no exception. So far, neither of them had really spoken about their experiences while under Ra'Val's influence, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to.

He dropped his spoon with a clatter and shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know. I was just thinking, I guess."

"You're always thinking. Care to elaborate?" She got up and walked over to the replicator. "Coffee, hot," she said. Moments later, with coffee in hand, she walked back over to the table and sat down again.

"I can't believe they fired Captain Picard," he blurted out suddenly.

"He wasn't fired, Wesley…at least not permanently. He's still a Captain."

"Yeah, but he's not _the_ Captain. And he's not in command of the _Enterprise_ anymore. So who is?"

"Admiral Imhoff," she said taking a sip of her coffee.

"What a jerk," said Wesley with a glowering look.

"Wesley!" It was all she could say, as she didn't disagree. Imhoff was a jerk, after all.

"Well…." They were silent for a few more minutes. "Has Captain Picard said anything to you about what happened on the bridge when we were all unconscious?" he asked watching her carefully.

She looked at him. "No." Wesley looked somewhat relieved, and she wondered why. "We haven't had a chance to speak much since Imhoff came aboard," she added, tearing at her orange absently. Delivering babies always had the strange effect of taking away her appetite for a few hours. "Besides he's been confined to his quarters," she added. "Imhoff caught him giving Data orders after he had been removed from his post."

"Oh. Well, I bet he's pretty angry about that."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Crusher murmured and put her cup down.

"Why don't you go and see him?" Wesley suggested.

His mother's face reddened and she shook her head. "I don't think so. He wouldn't like that, Wes," she said.

"Why? You and Walker have known him longer than anyone else here. I bet Walker has already gone to visit him."

"That's different," she said and finished her coffee quickly.

"How is it different? I don't get it—"

"Wesley," she said, getting to her feet. "It would take too long to explain. Anyway, I need a shower badly, so I will see you later?"

"Sure," he said and winced as she ruffled the hair on top of his head as she walked by.

* * *

Picard scowled at the sound of the door chime. Who the hell was paying him a visit now? He pushed himself up from his chair, unsteadily. In less than an hour, his leg had begun to appear bruised and had become swollen. He felt light-headed as he stood, facing the door. "Come," he said and realized suddenly how weak his voice sounded to his own ears.

It was Wesley Crusher, who hesitated at the door.

"Please come in, Mr. Crusher," he said, putting his hand on the back of the desk chair for support. Wesley crept in slowly as though he was afraid someone might jump out at him.

"Hi, sir," said Wesley, standing with his hands folded in front of him.

"Hello…" said Picard. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Wesley tapped his foot.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, Captain."

Picard smiled tightly. "I am quite well, Wesley, how thoughtful of you to ask," he said. _Now please leave_, he thought to himself. The pain in his leg was now radiating up through his groin and it was an extremely unpleasant sensation. In fact, he was beginning to feel nauseous. For some reason, the boy would not leave. He forced himself to fix his gaze on the boy.

"I…also wanted to thank you, sir. You know, for not telling my mom about what happened on the bridge."

Despite his discomfort, he chuckled. "Wesley, we can't be held responsible for what we experienced. We had no control over the situation. Besides… I could tell that you were embarrassed by the circumstances. Don't forget that I was a teenage boy once. Why on earth would I tell your mother?"

Wesley laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Captain."

"I should be thanking you, Wesley. If it was not for your ingenious design, we might not have captured Ra'Val. You helped to save everyone on this ship."

"Does that mean I can come up to the bridge more often?" Wesley said hopefully.

Picard sighed inwardly. "Wesley…as you know, your mother was none too pleased when I asked you to work from the science station the other day. I would very much like to avoid another argument like that again. So, why don't we just...review these opportunities on a case by case basis?"

Wesley nodded slowly. "Okay, that sounds fair."

Picard was beginning to feel light-headed again, and could actually feel his body begin to sway. He dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to steady himself. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Wesley nodded and turned to leave. "Bye sir," he said walking out the door.

"Goodbye…" As soon as the boy left, the room turned grey and he fainted.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Commander Zatha sat quietly in her personal office on board the _Ishran_. Recently she had learned some interesting facts about a desolate mining planet within Vulcan territory. From these facts and her observations of the behavior of her superiors, she had developed her own theory for why she and the other fleet commanders had been ordered to this system; and more importantly, why her superiors in the Andorian military seemed intent on advancing on the planet Vulcan at any cost. Now the question was, now that she had this little bit of information what was she to do with it?

She looked up as her communications panel beeped. "Commander Zatha, we are being hailed by Starfleet. It is the _Enterprise_, sir."

"I will take the message in here," she said. Her view screen popped on and a grey haired and decidedly overweight human male appeared on the screen. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. She had not expected this. Perhaps Picard had been killed after all. How disappointing.

"Commander Zatha," said the human. "I am Admiral Imhoff, of the USS Enterprise. We have something I think you might be interested in."

"Oh?" Zatha said with a small smile. "I will be the judge of that, Admiral," she said and she watched as his eyes bulged slightly. Clearly he already disliked her as much as she disliked him.

"Well, in order to see it, you'll have to beam over here, Commander."

Zatha's smile widened and she leaned forward for effect. "Oh, how delightful. I can assure you that if this is a trap Admiral, one of us will end up dead; and it will not be me. I will beam over shortly." Before he could respond, she cut the channel.

Commander Zatha sat back in her chair after the view screen blinked off. How curious that someone from the _Enterprise_ other than Captain Picard was contacting her. She hoped that he was not dead. If he was no longer in command of his ship, it was highly likely that the poison had either incapacitated him or killed him. He might not have much time left, in fact. She placed her palm on one of her desk drawers and it popped open silently. She reached in and pulled out a vial of bright blue liquid and examined it in her palm. Such a small amount, yet so potent. Placing it inside her tunic, she got up and headed for the transporter room.

* * *

A few minutes later, Commander Zatha stood alongside Admiral Imhoff, Commander Riker, Commander Data and Dr. Crusher in one of the Enterprise cargo bays. Zatha glanced around surreptitiously trying to avoid the appearance that she was gawking at their beautiful ship. It made the _Ishran_ look terribly sad in comparison. She turned as the deplorable human admiral was speaking again.

"And so you see, Commander Zatha, Ra'Val is perfectly incapacitated."

"He looks very alive to me," observed Zatha. "Why did you not kill him?"

"An agent from Vulcan who has been traveling with the _Enterprise_ incapacitated him along with our Mr. Data, here," said Commander Riker. "They only just escaped with their lives, so killing him was not a possibility at the time."

Zatha took a look at the gold-hued android standing next to Riker. She noted that he did look remarkably alive. And a Vulcan responsible for taking down Ra'Val? Interesting. "I understand that he was difficult to kill at the time, Mr. Riker, but now that you have him floating here in some kind of suspended animation…_why_ have you not killed him?"

Riker paused. "With all due respect, Commander, that's not how we do things around here."

"Perhaps you would like to administer your own brand of justice," suggested Imhoff turning to look at Zatha slyly.

"And what do you know of Andorian justice, Admiral," Zatha said, walking around the floating prison and looking up at Ra'Val, who was still curled in a fetal position.

"I know it involves severed heads and very few questions asked," shot back Imhoff.

Zatha slowed her pacing and looked directly at Imhoff. "Not an inaccurate description," she admitted.

"We'll offer you Ra'Val in exchange for your retreat from Vulcan," said Imhoff.

Riker turned to stare at the Admiral in disbelief. This had not been part of the plan. Imhoff deftly ignored him. "You have what you want now and can leave," snapped Imhoff.

"What makes you think that the Andorian government is interested in leaving Vulcan under any circumstances?"

Imhoff laughed harshly. "You can't be serious! A few days ago your people were calling for the blood of little children. Now we are willing to hand you the actual culprit and you are turning us down?"

For the first time, Zatha seemed to hesitate and her antennae rotated inward slowly. "Not turning you down…yet, Admiral, but I will bring your offer to my superiors. I will promise you that you will have an answer within one earth day. However, as I am told they say on Earth, 'don't hold your breath'."

Imhoff glared at Zatha in silence. Riker could just feel the contained rage rolling off of the man. As far as Riker was concerned, it served Imhoff right, for jumping the gun and offering to hand Ra'Val over. It was clear Zatha cared very little that Ra'Val had been captured. Besides, Riker doubted Imhoff had the permission from the Vulcan High Council to hand him over.

Zatha came to stand in front of Imhoff again. Her antennae now seemed to point directly at his forehead. "Now, Admiral, I am most interested in seeing whether my personal shuttle is in one piece or not. It's a family heirloom, and I would very much like it back. My children, if I ever have any, and if they are deserving enough, would be lucky to inherit it."

"It's completely intact, Commander," snapped Imhoff. "However, its appearance here was the direct result of you illegally holding Captain Picard prisoner aboard your ship. Perhaps, once you have discussed my offer with your superiors, you may have it back."

Surprisingly Zatha seemed unfazed. But she also appeared to be somewhat pleased at the mention of Picard's name. "Is Captain Picard alive then?" she asked.

Crusher straightened next to Data. "Yes, no thanks to _you_," she said coldly. Zatha's antennae swiveled perceptively in her direction.

"On the contrary, Doctor…"

"Crusher," snapped Beverly, glaring at the woman.

"A worthy name," said Zatha. "On the contrary Doctor Crusher, I would say Picard owes me his life."

"Oh, is that so?" Crusher turned to face her, arms folded. "So when he ended up in my sick bay, unconscious, stabbed and poisoned, I have you to thank? He was nearly dead when he reached us."

Zatha laughed. "Think about it, Doctor. No one escapes my ship unless I want them to. Unfortunately my soldiers didn't seem to see it my way, and they tried to stop him. One of them had a knife dipped in an illegal poison, and unfortunately your Captain was not quite swift enough."

Riker put a hand on Crusher's shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She pressed her lips together, and nodded, stepping back.

Zatha smiled. She admired this woman's spirit; subdued but intense. If this was Picard's mate, he was fortunate. Reaching into her uniform she pulled out the vial of blue liquid and held it up to the light. "How is Captain Picard?"

Crusher frowned. "He's fine, doing much better. What is that?"

"It's the antidote," said Zatha mildly. "And if I am correct, your Captain is very much in need of this."

Crusher's face grew pale. "I synthesized something to fight the poison, and it worked quite well," she said slowly as though trying to convince herself.

"No doubt you did the best you could," said Zatha. "But an Andorian poison requires an Andorian antidote." She held out the antidote to Crusher, who took it carefully, palming it in her hand.

Crusher glanced at Riker worriedly. "I haven't seen him in almost 24 hours," she said. "Will…."

Riker nodded to Data. "Go with her."

Zatha said, "I would like to accompany them as well. Assuming that Picard is coherent I have matters to discuss with him."

"Picard is no longer Captain of this ship," snapped Imhoff, as Zatha walked away with Crusher and Data. Only Data glanced back momentarily, but then resumed his pace beside Crusher. Imhoff shook his head and looked at Riker. "Let's go," he said and they exited the bay.

Inside the blue-tinged bubble of energy, there was a crackling, and the field seemed to weaken ever so slightly before returning to its full strength. Ra'Val had opened his eyes.

* * *

Walker Keel was scheduled to head back to the _Horatio_ within the hour, but something didn't sit well with him about his last conversation with Jean-Luc. He didn't like the way things had been left between them. Certainly they had shouted at each other before, and it was really Jean-Luc's style to tell people to go away if he didn't like what they had to say. And if they wouldn't leave, he would. Walker on the other hand was given to spontaneous outbursts, and sometimes he couldn't even predict when they would come. He was fire and Picard ice, he supposed, and that was part of the reason they had stayed friends for so long—through it all, really. There was a time, covering about the year or two between Jack's death and the court martial following the loss of the _Stargazer_ that Picard's perfect exterior began to show cracks and fissures for the first time since Walker had known him.

Walker had been so personally distraught about Jack's death that he'd almost gotten back together permanently with Marlene, whom he'd recently separated from just before Jack's death. He cried on Marlene's ample shoulder for about two months, before ultimately, leaving her again, since her drinking problems only seemed to increase after Jack died. Marlene had loved Jack in her own crazy way too. Everyone had loved Jack.

Walker went away for a bit and then came back to stay with Beverly and Wesley for a few months. During that period, their friendship had only deepened. The old betrayals and disappointments didn't matter to either of them anymore.

During this period Picard buried himself in his work on the _Stargazer_, to the point that Walker had very infrequent contact with him. The_ Stargazer_ became involved in deep space missions, which Walker learned through his own channels, had been specifically requested by Picard. He knew that Beverly had written Jean-Luc letters that he hadn't answered, which had been very hurtful to Beverly. It was something Walker had personally witnessed, and it broke his heart.

As much as Picard drifted off after Jack's death, he became even more distant a year later when he lost his ship. He never discussed the full story with Walker, and seemed intent on keeping it locked away with his other misery. He seemed to revel in punishing himself for these horrible things which had been out of his control. Following the court martial, Picard had become even more withdrawn. It was no wonder that Jean-Luc was acting somewhat strange around this whole Imhoff issue. Maybe seeing Imhoff again brought back some feelings he hadn't fully dealt with before.

* * *

Walker hesitated outside of Picard's quarters. _Get ready for another fight,_ he told himself as he pushed the chime. There was no answer, so he pushed it again, but there was still no answer. "Computer, where is Captain Picard?"

"Captain Picard is in his quarters," said the computer.

"Is he sleeping?"

"Captain Picard is not conscious," said the computer.

"Is he in bed?"

"No," said the computer.

"Emergency override, voice print Keel Alpha 2," he said quickly. The door slid open and Walker ran in.

His friend was draped headfirst over a chair, clearly unconscious. He pulled him down to the floor, cradling his head. Some kind of liquid had come out of his mouth and had dried into blue crystals. His breath was shallow. He gave the rest of him a quick check, and saw that his right thigh had swollen to twice its normal size. It was where he'd been poisoned. He looked around quickly for something to cut the pants with, but Picard's room was as austere as he was.

Walker ran to the replicator and asked for a cutting tool. When he returned to Picard, the man's head was moving back and forth and he was trying to speak. Walker used the tool to make a cut and freed the leg, which was a disgusting purple color. "Must have happened so fast," he breathed.

He looked up as he saw Beverly, Data sprint into the room, followed by a tall Andorian walking quickly. The Andorian was not armed, and seemed to be with them, so he decided not to jump to any conclusions. "Just found him here," said Walker. "If he was this sick last night, I didn't notice it," he said, feeling guilty.

Beverly knelt down beside Picard without a word and ran the tricorder over him. "I have to get him to sick bay," she said.

Zatha's antennae flattened close to her skull. "He's too far gone. You have to administer the antidote now, Doctor."

"Will a hypo do it?"

Zatha nodded.

"Let's move him off of the floor at least," said Crusher. Data nodded and knelt down easily picking up the Captain and brought him to his bed in the other room.

* * *

The first thing he heard was voices. Was he dreaming again? He heard Beverly, but _oh_ _no_, not another dream like before. No, there were other voices. Why were people constantly visiting him in his quarters. Didn't the captain deserve some privacy? Didn't they understand, he was horrible company, and yet the visitors just kept streaming in. He tried to concentrate. What had happened last? Young Wesley Crusher had been in to speak to him and then he'd left…only blackness after that. He really had to stop talking with that boy. Each interaction seemed to end worse for him than the last. He tried to concentrate again, as he heard Beverly's voice again.

"Like hell. I am not leaving you alone with him," she said with quiet anger. "He was poisoned on board your ship."

"And I brought you the antidote didn't I? Do you think I want to save him just to try and kill him?" asked a voice, somewhat familiar but not in an entirely pleasant way.

"That thought _had_ crossed all our minds," said Walker drily.

"Although you have redeemed some of your earlier actions, your motivations are still suspect, Commander Zatha," offered Data.

Zatha stared at the android and her antennae twitched in irritation. She turned back to Crusher. "What I have to tell Picard is highly classified," insisted Zatha.

Crusher folded her hands over her chest and pursed her lips. "We can't trust—"

Zatha stood to her full height, which was considerable. "Why so much resistance, Crusher? Are you his doctor or his wife?"

"His doctor," Crusher snapped.

Picard's eyes fluttered open. "Zatha? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, Picard. But you wouldn't know it, based on the reaction of your crew."

"What-what happened?"

"The poison entered its final stages, Captain," said Zatha. "I brought an antidote, which your _doctor _administered, and now you will finally be able to recover." Crusher continued to glare silently at the wall.

Picard turned over halfway in his bed. "Beverly?"

"I'm right here, Jean-Luc," she said, and gave Zatha a not so sweet smile. "Commander Zatha is right. The poison entered a dormant stage we were unaware of until she came aboard with the antidote. You're going to be okay," she said, touching his shoulder lightly.

"Thank you," he said to her, his voice cracking. He looked around for a glass of water. Crusher saw what he was looking for, and handed it to him. He sipped it carefully and then balanced it on his chest. He smiled up at her, glad to be alive. She smiled back at him, and there was something soft in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Jean-Luc," she said, with an overly serious tone, obviously directed at the Andorian captain. "Commander Zatha has come all this way, and she says she has something very important to tell you. Apparently it is so important that we have to leave her alone with you to tell you this news. Walker, Data and I will stand outside the door, and if we hear anything odd…."

Picard coughed, and oddly felt a laugh coming on. So as not to offend her, he kept a serious face. "Thank you, Beverly, I appreciate your protection, but I think it will be alright. Please do wait outside the door, though." She nodded and squeezed his hand, before leaving with Data and Walker.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"Picard, I am very envious. If my own crew showed that much concern for my welfare, I might be able to finally sleep with both eyes closed." Commander Zatha grabbed a chair and moved it closer to Picard's bedside, sitting down gracefully.

Picard laughed. Having tangled with Zatha's crew recently, he did not doubt her statement, but he found it odd that such a leader did not inspire the kind of loyalty from her own people which she surely deserved. He found it even more bizarre that despite the circumstances he respected and even liked Zatha. "My crew has had plenty of reason to be concerned recently, I am afraid," said Picard. "As you are personally aware, I've had some difficulties of late," he said rubbing his forehead.

"Yes, Picard. Each time I see you, you appear more pathetic," she said.

He merely raised his eyebrows. "Well, I have you to blame for some of that. And yet, ironically, here I am recovering again, thanks to you. And so what is this information you have for me?"

Zatha grew serious. "I have thought long and hard about this Picard, and I believe that at this time, you are the only one I can trust; Andorian or Human."

"Really," said Picard. "I'm touched," he said cynically, but to some degree, he actually _was_ touched. He shifted in his bed, to sit up straighter.

Zatha tilted her antennae at him. "Ever heard of Delta Vega?"

He squinted, trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. He shook his head. "Not that I recall," he said.

Her mouth curled into a small smile. "But surely you know what trilithium is…"

He frowned. "Of course I do. It's one of the most powerful ores native to the Alpha Quadrant. Also one of the most volatile, which is why its extraction and refinement is so highly regulated."

Zatha nodded. "Delta Vega is an icy planet just inside Vulcan space and it is not far from Andoria. It is also the remaining known source of trilithium in this sector. At one time, Andoria had a small amount of trilithium under one of our polar sheets. A shadowy mining operation extracted it all within the space of a solar year. At the time it was thought that an organized crime syndicate was to blame, but few paid very much attention."

Picard nodded. "But now you've learned something more."

"It wasn't until a few days ago, when we arrived near Vulcan, that I discovered a very problematic connection between Andoria suddenly running out of trilithium and our mission to Vulcan. Upon our arrival, I noted that our command ship, the _Striker_ sent out probes to Delta Vega. General Thran commands the _Striker_, and he also happens to be the head of one of Andoria's wealthiest mining families. Putting these facts together, I believe Thran's search for more territory to be the primary reason we are now here at Vulcan."

Picard folded his arms over his chest. "There is only one reason trilithium is so sought after," he said slowly. "It's used almost exclusively for weapons production, and most of the weapons trilithium produces are illegal in the Federation."

"Right. This means that Thran is an arms dealer on the side," said Zatha. "Who knows what backward planets he has been selling his products to?"

"And so using Ra'Val's attack on the Andorian colonists was just an excuse to move in on Vulcan territory?" Picard sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, feeling a little dizzy, but stronger than before. And his leg felt much better. "Thran cannot be allowed to establish a foothold in Vulcan territory for his own gain. Commander, you are in the best position to expose him," he said.

Zatha smiled but shook her head. "No, Picard. You are. The question is when to expose him and who will you give this information to? If anyone," she added.

"Surely, with this information, you cannot in good conscience obey an order to attack Vulcan," said Picard dubiously.

She raised her chin. "I cannot say for certain what I will do at this point. The point is that the Andorian High Command, guided by General Thran is not interested in leaving Vulcan under any circumstances. Your Admiral Imhoff believes he can simply feed us Ra'Val and that we will leave the system. But it is now clear that some of my superiors are more consumed by a hunger for personal wealth than revenge."

"What do you mean 'feed' you Ra'Val?" Picard felt his face and neck heating up.

"Oh, you were not provided with that information?" Zatha chuckled. "Perhaps you and I have more in common than we previously thought. Both of our commanding officers like to keep secrets."

Picard sighed. Imhoff thought he knew best, always had. But letting the Andorians have Ra'Val? On whose authority? Picard ran his hand over his cheek and found stubble. He knew he must look like hell. Clearly he had let himself go in the past few days being locked up in his quarters. He looked up at Zatha as she stood up. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

Zatha looked down at him. "As I mentioned, Picard, I trust you. I think when events reach the point of no turning back, we will both be forced to make…unpopular decisions. And I do believe that you and I want the same things, Picard."

He reached out and gripped her hand tightly before they both let go. She smiled. "It is a good thing that you did not die. I am going to return to my ship, now Captain. Should we meet again under better circumstances, I will be pleased," she said and turned and left his quarters.

* * *

"I've been ordered back to the _Horatio_, Jean-Luc. Again…" said Walker. He and Crusher stood inside Picard's quarters after Zatha departed. Picard could tell Walker wanted to ask him what Zatha had said, but he didn't press. "By the way, Admiral Imhoff sends his wishes for your speedy recovery," he added with a wink.

"Oh, I'm sure," grumbled Picard. "Goodbye, for now, Walker. And thank you…for your assistance earlier."

Walker held his arms wide and grinned at Picard tauntingly. Before Picard could back up, Walker had grabbed him into a hug. After a few moments of Walker delighting himself by making Picard feel uncomfortable, Walker stood back and regarded him fondly. "So glad you are going to be alright, old friend," Walker said, clapping him on the shoulder. Then after kissing Beverly on the cheek lightly, he left. "Both of you be safe out there," he said, as the doors hissed shut.

"He loves you, you know," Beverly said, turning to look at him softly. "Just like Jack did." The look in her eyes conveyed so much that he had to strongly resist his usual inclination to retreat at the mention of Jack's name. Instead, he stood looking at her for a few moments. She looked down suddenly, "Jean-Luc, I can't tell you how guilty I feel that I didn't properly treat the poison. As much as I was angry at Commander Zatha, she's right; she did save your life."

He shook his head. "Beverly, you did your best with the knowledge you had. A lesser doctor- and there are many, might not have been able to save me as you did when I came in on that shuttle."

She smiled gratefully, but he could tell it was still eating at her. He knew she took tremendous pride in being a physician, even if she rarely said so. She began to pace a bit. "Being out in space is so completely different than being at Starfleet Medical where the resources are almost unlimited. I've just got to get used to it again, and more than anything, I've got to expect the unexpected."

"There is that," he agreed. "But I have no doubt that you will be up to the challenge, Beverly. You are a terrific doctor. You always have been."

Even in his darkened quarters, he could see that she was blushing. "Thank you," she said. They stood in silence for a few more moments before the intercom beeped its interruption.

"_Riker to Captain Picard,_" drifted Riker's voice. He sounded irritated.

"Picard here."

"_Sir, Admiral Imhoff has requested your presence at 1600 hours. He would like you to go to the conference room adjacent to the bridge."_

Picard frowned. "What is this about, Commander?"

_"I'm afraid I can't say, sir."_

Picard shrugged. "Very well. Thank you, Mr. Riker."

When the channel was cut, Picard made a face and looked at Crusher. "Imhoff can't even lower himself in order to call me on the intercom," he said. "I wonder what he's got up his sleeve, now." He broke into a slow smile. "At least I'll get out of my damn living quarters for a few hours," he said.

Crusher looked at the clock. "You're not expected at this meeting for another three hours," said Crusher. "And you know what that means," she added.

He stared at her, not at all sure what she meant. Several spontaneous and, he reassured himself, unintentional, impure thoughts ran through his mind. "Huh?"

"You need to catch up on your sleep…," she said smiling at his apparent confusion.

"Doctor," he began to protest, but she put her hands on his chest and gently but firmly pushed him back towards his bed. Reluctantly, he sat down heavily and settled back against the pillows.

She pulled the covers up to his chin, and he averted his eyes, as a soft wisp of her hair brushed his cheek. He shut his eyes, as an image from his Ra'Val influenced dream came back to him in startling detail. "You know," he heard her say, and he opened his eyes to see she was now standing above him, arms crossed with a half-amused expression was planted on her face. "Commander Zatha is quite attractive," she said, as though she had been mulling this over for some time.

He just raised his eyebrows and stared at her silently.

She smiled. "No comment? Well, she certainly seems fond of you…."

Picard laughed uneasily. "Oh…I don't think so, Beverly. What a silly thing—"

"Trust me," said Crusher abruptly. "She's interested," she said with a knowing smile; but did he detect a trace of jealousy? Couldn't be, he told himself. But then a pleasant but odd thing occurred. Crusher leaned down toward him and ran her hand under his chin slowly. "And you need a shave," she said in a low, captivating voice. Still gripping his chin, she leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.

* * *

"You will be interested to know that Ra'Val, the one who admits to having murdered our villagers, has been captured and is on board the _Enterprise_. The Starfleet Admiral Imhoff asked me to pass along the suggestion that we take custody of Ra'Val in exchange for our withdrawal from Vulcan space."

"He insults us!" shouted Thran.

"General," said Zatha calmly. "Starfleet seems to be under the perception that the Andorian people have demanded revenge for the crimes Ra'Val perpetrated against our colonists. Is this perception incorrect?"

Thran hesitated. "No… we will have our vengeance yet," he said, but much less vehemently.

"But you do not want to take Ra'Val on board the _Striker_?" asked Zatha.

Thran's brush-like white eyebrows moved up and down. "Is he…_safe_?"

"If by 'safe' you mean not dangerous, General, I am afraid I do not know. He still lives, therefore it is likely he could recover and again be a menace."

Thran scoffed. "And why haven't they executed him?"

"I was told they don't do that sort of thing, General. It is not their style," she added knowingly.

"Style! Humph. They seem all-too-willing to unload a dangerous criminal," he said suspiciously. "I don't trust them."

"So what would you have me tell them, General?"

"Tell them…we will take their offer under consideration," he said dismissively.

"I already told them that sir."

"Then tell them again!" the General shouted. He seemed ready to cut the channel, which was certainly acceptable to Zatha when he fixed her with a menacing stare.  
"Commander Zatha, I am told you have my nephew in jail onboard your ship."

"Lt. Hakka? Why yes, now that you mention it," Zatha replied as though she had forgotten she had placed her own first officer in the brig.

"For what reason?" demanded Thran.

"He has been regularly insolent, General. He questions my authority," she said.  
Thran's antennae began to gyrate. "Enough games," he grunted. "Release him at once!" he ordered.

"Yes, General." Zatha bowed her head as the screen blinked out.

* * *

Picard stepped briskly onto the bridge, and for the first time in a few days, he felt as though he were in the right place. Beverly Crusher had been right; catching up on sleep had been just the thing, and he felt refreshed. But even more than imparting her sound advice, to his immense surprise she had kissed him. It hadn't been a chaste peck on the cheek or an awkward kiss on the lips either. He could feel that she had meant it. And it had been by far the best thing that had happened to him in…well, he could not remember.

He tried to tell himself to stop thinking about it, but the more he tried to suppress his thoughts, the more he grew distracted remembering her touch, her sweet complex smell, and the fullness of her lips…and the warmth and nearness of her body. _Oh no_, he could feel himself getting aroused. This was not like him. Was he being influenced by Ra'Val? Was Beverly being influenced by Ra'Val? Had she even intended to kiss him?

He talked silently to himself, trying to calm down and focus. _Focus on what? _He thought with irritation. He had no idea what he was headed for however, with this meeting he had been ordered to attend. He hoped the subject of the meeting would be how soon he would be returning to command, as his role as the ousted Captain was wearing thin. Imhoff. There, he'd found the cure for his arousal. _Just think of Imhoff, and once you get into the meeting, you won't have a choice but to think of the bastard, because he will be right there in front of you._

Riker stood up as Picard walked down the ramp toward the command center. "Captain, it's good to see you up and around again, sir," he said with a big smile.

Picard nodded and stopped. "How are preparations coming along, Number One?"

"Very well, sir. We'll be ready for whatever comes our way. And good luck, Captain," said Riker as Picard stepped away into the conference room.

* * *

Admiral Imhoff sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him. Next to him sat his aide, the dark-haired man wearing a security uniform, who he'd seen in the cargo bay a few days before. Picard, who sat across from them at the long obsidian table, noted that the aide had no rank pips on his collar, and seemed completely unfamiliar. The man stared at Picard with a very serene yet unkind expression. Picard returned the man's stare with quiet confidence.

"We're just waiting for someone," said Imhoff, when he saw Picard shift in his chair impatiently. Imhoff looked down and continued staring with apparent interest at his datapad. All three men looked up, as the doors opened and Counselor Deanna Troi walked in.

"Gentlemen," she said by way of greeting and sat down next to Captain Picard. She could sense immediately that his level of discomfort, which was already considerable, was elevated to new heights when she walked in. It was the empath's equivalent of him screaming "no" in her face.

But outwardly, he only nodded curtly. "Counselor," he said, his face expressionless.

Imhoff stood up and gestured to Counselor Troi. "Counselor, thank you for coming. Please sit here," he said pulling out a chair next to him. Troi cringed inwardly, as she walked back around the table and sat down next to him. Imhoff was trying to present a united front, and clearly he wanted her to be a part of that front; the front opposing Captain Picard that is. Now all three of them faced Picard. Troi tried to put on her most neutral expression.

"Pardon me, sir, but what is this about?" asked Picard, who clearly saw the significance of his lone position on one side of the table.

"It's about your fitness for duty, Captain," said Imhoff fixing him with a stony gaze.

"With all due respect, sir, I have already passed the same fitness for duty tests administered to the rest of my crew following Ra'Val's attack on this ship. Everyone, save for me has been returned to duty. Now, I should like to know the reason why, Admiral," said Picard, his voice hard.

"Are you quite well, Captain? Doctor Crusher reported that you had a bit of a setback," said the man sitting next to Imhoff.

Troi felt a wave of anger pass through the room, emanating from Picard. "I'm sorry, I am afraid we haven't been introduced," he said, looking the man up and down as though he had just appeared in the room. Troi allowed herself a slight smile.

"This is Jackson," said Imhoff. "He is an investigator with Starfleet Intelligence."  
Again, Troi felt a wave of something from Picard, probably best described as distrust.

Picard smiled coldly. "Ah. I see. I was wondering if the uniform you are wearing was just for show," he commented.

Imhoff's expression was disdainful. "To answer your earlier question, Picard, the reason why you have not been reinstated to command is that I have serious questions about your fitness for duty."

"Please ask them then—"

"You will NOT give me orders, Picard!" shouted Imhoff, leaping to his feet. Placing his palms flat on the table he stared down at Picard with barely contained rage. Picard glared back silently. "Now I am going to leave this room and return to my duties as _Captain_ of this vessel, while you answer Jackson's questions. And under no circumstances are you to try to manipulate this inquiry to your own advantage, nor will you refuse to answer any question posed, or I will have you removed from this ship. Understood?"

"Understood. And Counselor Troi's role at this meeting?" prompted Picard, his eyes now completely aloof.

Imhoff smiled coldly. "She will be assessing your psychological fitness, of course," he snapped, and then exited the room.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"T'Pel of Vulcan…you have returned," said Delegate Stahl impassively appearing on T'Pel's view screen.

"I have fulfilled my directive to bring the Redeemer children back safely," she said. "I would like to arrange for their transport down to the surface. I am concerned for their welfare and where they will be placed. They are orphans now," she said.

Stahl bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Your service to these children is appreciated, T'Pel. However, you are to await further instruction before taking any additional action with regard to the Redeemer children," he said.

"But I have completed my mission," she repeated, "and now the children must travel to a safe place…at home on Vulcan."

Stahl sat forward with his fingers forming a loose triangle. "What place on Vulcan do you believe would be a suitably safe place, T'Pel? We are on the verge of war with Andoria."

"The children must not suffer any more than they already have, Delegate," she said quietly.

"Then you must guide them to see logic, while we resolve larger concerns," he said.

T'Pel sat stiffly and impassively. "And Ra'Val?"

"He lives, does he not?" asked Stahl. T'Pel nodded. "Then as long as he lives, he will not set foot on Vulcan," said Stahl.

"But it is on Vulcan that he may be kept under control, where his threat will be lessened."

"Do you hear your own words? To lessen his threat is insufficient. He must be destroyed. You have learned his intent T'Pel. You know that he wants to destroy the Council and gain control of Vulcan."

"I refuse to kill my own brother," said T'Pel calmly.

"Then you will bring a pestilence on your own people," said Stahl. The screen blinked out.

* * *

"His spine was crushed in two places…now it has completely regenerated, Admiral," said Doctor Crusher amazed at the sound of her own words. She snapped her tricorder shut. "Normally I would be ecstatic to see this kind of progress in one of my patients," she added, glancing at Admiral Imhoff. "But to be able to do this under his own power…" she trailed off. The idea of Ra'Val getting well was a frightening prospect. She had taken an oath to do no harm, but in this case, she wasn't sure if she hadn't contributed to the harm of many others by helping Ra'Val to survive.

"Then we had better hope that this temporary prison holds," said Imhoff. She watched as he walked slowly around the energy shell that looking up at the Vulcan, he was still, and appeared asleep, but something about the position of his lean body made it seem as though he was coiled to strike at any moment. Crusher felt dread hanging in the air.

"Until when, sir?" she asked trying to keep her tone even.

He slowed his pacing and looked at her fixedly. "Until we can unload him on either the Andorians or the Vulcans," he said, casually clasping his hands behind his back.

"_Unload_ him sir?" Crusher could not believe her ears.

"Yes, he's really the Vulcans' problem now don't you agree?"

Crusher almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of his words. "No sir, I think R'aVal is actually everyone's problem. If the point is to try and avoid further bloodshed then we've got to figure out how to use Ra'Val to that end, not just dump him. He's not a problem that will just go away, Admiral."

"A week ago I would have agreed with you, Beverly. Now, I am not so sure."

Crusher's eyebrows raised involuntarily at the use of her first name. Most people referred to her by her title out of respect, unless she had made it clear she wanted to be on a first name basis. Even Jean-Luc didn't use her first name unless, well unless he was in the mood to be informal, or something more. Her mouth creased into a smile and her mind began to pleasantly drift backward in time to a few hours ago, when she realized that Admiral Imhoff was still speaking.

"Perhaps it is time for the Vulcans to step up and claim their prisoner. After all, he's one of them." He stopped next to her and revealed a small smile. "You don't like me very much do you?"

Crusher fidgeted and then stared straight ahead. Was he really going to make her answer that? "Admiral, I don't really see how that is relevant to our conversation," she answered, feeling an uncomfortable tickle in the back of her neck.

"I take it you don't approve of me removing Captain Picard from command..." he lowered his voice, standing closer to her now.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and looked him in the eye, moving to the side a bit to add some space between them. "I am sure you have your reasons, sir but...I don't understand why you are doing what you are doing, and no I don't agree. Of course my approval is not required..." she added, wondering if that would soften the blow to his ego somewhat. It did not.

Imhoff's portly face turned an almost unnatural purple color. "Of course your approval is not _required_," he snapped.

Crusher flinched slightly at his tone. Then why the hell was he asking her whether she approved? She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Admiral, I have a number of matters to attend in sickbay, if you will excuse me."

"I haven't dismissed you yet Doctor," he said with quiet rage.

She remembered something that T'Pel had told her in sickbay. _My brother's psychic presence is still strong, Beverly. Be careful to guard your emotions when you are near the energy field, or your feelings whether positive or negative may be magnified._

Was this what was happening to Imhoff? From what she had seen, he was an arrogant man, but this sudden aggression was alarming even for him. Crusher glanced around and her eyes fell on the lone security officer who stood near the cargo bay doors. He was staring at his boots as though transfixed. _Oblivious_, she thought dully.

Imhoff shook his head looking at her. "Strange...I thought out of all the officers on this ship, you might identify with my point of view about Jean-Luc Picard."

Her eyes widened in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, your history of course. The death of your husband…the other rumors…"

Beverly could feel herself becoming angry, and tried to remember T'Pel's words of warning. She took a deep breath. "Admiral, this conversation has become completely inappropriate," she said, taking another step back.

"Don't you want to know about the other rumors, Beverly?" He said, now advancing on her slowly. "How Picard wanted to you for himself, long before he became responsible for your husband's death?"

"You don't know what you're saying," said Beverly, continuing to walk backwards. "It wasn't his fault. I know the truth now because T'Pel told me. She was there when Jack died, and I know that what you are saying is a _lie_."

Admiral Imhoff's eyes began to cloud over and grow dusky. "Who could blame him for wanting you? You're such a beautiful woman. And look at you now, still in the prime of your life." He reached a shaky hand out to touch her face, just grazing her with his fingers. Without thinking, she pushed his hand away with one hand and struck him on the bridge of his nose with the heel of her other palm as hard as she could.

"Aah!" he cried out, staggering backwards. He looked up at her pleadingly, cradling his face in his hands. "D-Doctor, please forgive me, I don't know what just came over me," he breathed. He straightened and still held his face in his hands. Blood flowed freely through his fingers. She could see though that his eyes were no longer clouded over as before, although that was difficult to tell now that they were welling up with pain-induced tears. Looking at him, she knew he had been influenced by Ra'Val, but she didn't regret her actions in the slightest.

She looked at him with a trained eye. "You're going to need to get that treated. It looks broken," she said turning to leave. "I also suggest maybe seeing a doctor who doesn't have such a conflict of interest," she said without turning back as she walked out past the gawking security guard.

* * *

"Why did you not alert Starfleet once you discovered Ra'Val's presence on board this ship?" asked Jackson, Admiral Imhoff's investigator.

"There was simply no time to do anything but plan defensively," said Picard.

"Yes," said Jackson, checking his data pad and then looking back up at Picard. "You mentioned in your logs that it was a…teenage boy who came up with the contraption that captured Ra'Val."

Picard looked at the man as though he were a speck of dust on the table. "I am quite certain I did not use the phrase 'teenage boy'. No doubt I referred to Mr. Crusher by his name," he added.

Jackson shifted in his seat. "My point is—"

"Yes," said Picard. "Wesley Crusher came up with the original concept, and with his assistance Lt. Commander Data and Lt. LaForge finished building it."

"You let your _helmsman_ build this device?"

Picard clenched his jaw. Was his every damn decision to be questioned? "Yes, and frankly, Mr. LaForge is much too skilled to remain at the helm for much longer. I see a likely promotion in his near future," said Picard. He hesitated. "I thought I might mention that now, in case you would like to offer an opinion on that as well," he added with dry sarcasm. Troi smiled slightly.

Jackson slapped the data pad down on the desk and interlaced his fingers on the table. "And what about Wesley Crusher, Captain? On whose authority did you have a civilian work on such a dangerous project?"

"On my own authority," snapped Picard.

Jackson stood up abruptly, a cold smile fixed on his face. "And that, Captain Picard, appears to be your failing. Did it not occur to you that you should consult with Starfleet Command? After all, the issue of Ra'Val effects far more than just this ship."

"I control the affairs of my own ship," he retorted. "At least, when it was my ship, I did," he added. For the first time, although his tone had remained callous, she sensed a weak spot. He really was hurt that he had been removed from command. And although he seemed not to be shocked by the fact that Imhoff was moving against him, he didn't fully understand why.

"You seem to believe that your authority is paramount, Captain," said Jackson, sitting back down slowly.

Picard folded his arms over his chest. "On the contrary, I respect authority—legitimate authority very much."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "And who decides what authority is legitimate and what is not worthy of respect? You?"

Picard sat stonily, but said nothing.

"Do I need to remind you that you have been ordered to answer my questions, Captain?"

"If I had a choice I would have walked out of this meeting ten minutes ago," said Picard.

Jackson leaned forward slightly. "Walk out at your own peril, Captain," he said smugly. Dropping his eyes to the tabletop for a moment, he raised them again now with a small smile on his face. "Explain again why you chose Wesley Crusher to perform the duties of a Starfleet officer," he said.

Troi now detected a clear halo of anger hovering around Picard.

"Mr. Crusher had the first and most expedient idea to capture Ra'Val," he answered. "And since we had the means to implement it…we did."

"You had no…moral qualms about risking the life of Jack Crusher's son? Perhaps you act too freely with the lives of your crew, Captain," said Jackson.

"And perhaps you speak too freely," said Picard quietly. He stood up. "I am not going to sit here and listen to this anymore. Goodbye Counselor," he added and began to walk out.

Jackson stood up again. "Your stubbornness will be your undoing, Captain. You know what this is really about, Picard. Perhaps if you would just confess, Imhoff would give you your ship back."

Picard's expression was steely but his voice was steady and almost calm. "I refuse to be blackmailed into begging for a posting that I have already earned. If Admiral Imhoff thinks I have something to confess, let him come and ask me himself," he said, finally leaving the conference room.

* * *

Riker swore to himself quietly. Deanna had just exited the conference room and settled down beside him without a word. She appeared to be deep in thought, and he was busy, so he didn't bother to ask. Judging by the way Captain Picard had stormed off of the bridge a few minutes ago, things were just generally not going well. Even worse, he had just received a disturbing message from the Vulcan High Council. And for a few minutes now, he had been trying to reach Admiral Imhoff with no success.

"Riker to Admiral Imhoff…" he said again into the intercom, trying to not let the irritation seep into his voice. At that moment, Imhoff stepped on to the bridge and headed down to the command center.

Riker stood to address him and starting speaking. "Admiral, we've just received a communique from the Vulcan High Council…."he trailed off suddenly seeing Imhoff, as the man came closer. Had it been less of a shock it might have been a comical sight. "Sir…what happened? Are you alright?"

It was clear that the Admiral had taken a direct blow to his nose and the red line across the bridge of his swollen nose indicated it had been broken.

"It's nothing," said Imhoff, sitting down slowly in the Captain's chair. "I was in sick bay," he mumbled. "You were saying, Commander?" he prompted looking up at Riker with some effort. As she watched Imhoff avoid his question, Riker saw Troi's jaw drop a little. _Well, she knows something I don't…as usual_, thought Riker.

"Uh, the Vulcan High Council has issued a declaration refusing under any circumstances to allow the Redeemer children, or Ra'Val down to the surface of Vulcan, sir," said Riker.

Imhoff sighed. "So neither the Andorians nor the Vulcans want him. I suppose the _Enterprise_ is stuck with him for the time being."

Data turned in his chair at ops. "Sir, I do not believe that the energy field holding Ra'Val can be maintained indefinitely."

"How long can we expect it to stay intact then, Commander?" asked Imhoff.

"No more than 48 hours, Admiral," said Data.

"If that…" LaForge muttered next to him at the helm.

"Do your best to boost the power to the energy grid," said Riker. "Get some extra power from Engineering if you need it. We need that field to hold. Data and LaForge, please get to work," he said. LaForge and Data looked at each other and got up to exit the bridge as they were replaced by backup personnel.

Admiral Imhoff watched them leave. "Never in my life have I seen a helmsman down in engineering more than he is on the bridge," he muttered.

* * *

Commander Zatha sat in her command chair on the bridge of the_ Ishran_, and felt an overwhelming sense that something bad was about to happen.

"Commander," said Lt. Hakka, having once again returned to his place at the helm. "Incoming message from General Thran," he reported.

"On screen," she said.

General Thran's perpetual scowl blinked into view. "The time has come, Commander Zatha. You will proceed with the offensive against Vulcan."

She had wondered what she might do in this situation. Of course it would have to come to this eventually. "General, I have been meaning to ask you," she said, hearing the words as though they were coming from someone else's mouth. "How much do you personally stand to gain from capturing Delta Vega for Andoria? And is it worth the loss of life on all sides?"

Thran emitted a low growl. "Commander Zatha, commence the attack on Vulcan at once."

Zatha sat back in her chair. "No," she said, and cut the channel herself. Then it happened as if in a dream. She looked up to find that several members of her crew lead by Lt. Hakka, stood with pistols pointed in her direction. _Fair enough_, she thought.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Commander Zatha sat in a stark cell on the Andorian ship the _Striker_, commanded by General Thran. After key members of her bridge crew had mutinied against her, she had attempted to fight them, striking down her tactical officer, but clearly they had been ordered to take her prisoner, and some coward had shot her with a weapon set on stun. Then, judging by the fact she woke up on the _Striker_ in a dingy cell, she had been moved off of the _Ishran_. She would have preferred a quick death, or even a relatively quick death to capture by that toad Thran.

What a fool she was. She silently placed at least some of the blame on Picard, for his moral counseling. She wondered whether she would have acted in the same fashion, by disobeying Thran's order had she never met Picard. But she knew the answer was that he had only confirmed a decision she knew was going to be inevitable, since she had found out about his real motivations. Thran was always going to give the order to attack Vulcan, and she was going to have to refuse, certainly not because she loved the Vulcan people, but she did not hate them either. But because she now knew the reason for attacking Vulcan had little to do with protecting the Andorian people from further attacks, nor was it even about vengeance.

Perhaps she should have killed Ra'Val herself when she had been on board the Enterprise, but she'd been too concerned with feeding Picard information she could have used herself. And, she had also been concerned that he would lose his life. Briefly she wondered if meeting Picard had made her soft, but rejected the idea. Why should she care about the opinion of a human? In any case, she needed to plan her next steps. Now that her subordinates had betrayed her, she knew that revenge would be her most trusted and possibly her only friend.

* * *

Riker left admiral Imhoff on the bridge to mull over the Andorian/Vulcan dilemma. It was mid-evening and he was finally off duty, but instead of going to Ten Forward he headed for sickbay in the hopes of getting a response to another unanswered question. He found Dr. Crusher in her office studying some requisition orders. She glanced up from what she was doing, stylus in hand. "If you've come to check on the status of my sickbay, Commander I can now report that we're as ready as we'll ever be for battle-if there is one. Now let's hope we don't need to use all of those extra beds," she added before returning to what she had been reading.

"Sounds as if you and your staff have been working hard Doctor, but that's not why I'm here", he said sitting down across from her.

"Oh?" She said still not looking up and sounding as if she was taking great effort to appear interested.

He cleared his throat. It wasn't as though he had known the ship's doctor for long but it seemed unlike Beverly Crusher to avoid eye contact. But if she thought he was going to leave that easy, she was mistaken. He tried a bit of humor to soften her sullen demeanor. "Admiral Imhoff turned up on the bridge a few minutes ago, looking as though he had just been head-butted by a Klingon," he said with a slight grin. He couldn't imagine Crusher liked Imhoff any better than he did.

Crusher pursed her lips and carefully put her data pad down. "Did he say what happened to him?" she asked slowly.

"Actually, no," said Riker. "He refused to say anything about his broken nose, which had clearly been recently treated, and just mumbled something about having been to sickbay." He watched her closely.

"Well, I didn't treat him personally, Commander but I can confirm that he was treated earlier this evening in one of the minor sickbays. But unfortunately that is all I can tell you."

Riker frowned. "You didn't treat him? Seems pretty strange that an Admiral wouldn't have gone straight to the CMO to get fixed up."

To his surprise, Beverly pressed her lips together, and it appeared that she was trying not to laugh. She quickly grew serious again. "Yes, odd isn't it? But no more odd than an Admiral sustaining a broken nose in the first place," she added, and stood up from her seat. She turned around and fiddled with something on a shelf.

Riker stood up as well. "So…you're not going to tell me how he broke his nose? Come on, Doctor, help me out here."

Crusher turned back to him and shrugged. "Commander, you know I would tell you if his broken nose in any way affected his fitness for duty, but it doesn't—it's been fixed. Besides, you said yourself he refused to discuss it, Will. Ever heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?" she said with a slight smile and tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her tricorder as she passed by. Despite his annoyance at her evasiveness, he laughed.

"Doctor, wait," said Riker growing serious again. "How is Tasha doing?"

Crusher stopped and nodded. "She's much better and I think by tomorrow morning she will be fine for limited duty. But she had a serious head injury, Will. And, she's been taking the deaths of her officer quite hard. I think she feels guilty at having survived the ordeal with Ra'Val."

Riker shook his head. "It's a shame we lost anyone that day. But now we need her well. Please have Deanna meet with her before she goes back on duty?"

Crusher nodded, and they stepped out of her office together.

* * *

His breath came quick but steady and the sound of his footsteps thudding on the moist ground was the loudest sound around, save for the call of an occasional tree frog. The moon rose in front of him at the top of the hill, and the cool spring breeze whispered over his face and neck. As strong as his injured leg felt, he felt his right quadriceps and knee straining as the incline of the hill grew steeper. He had planned to try and forget about everything that was presently happening, things that he could do nothing about until he was restored to command. The more he became distracted and allowed these thoughts to creep in, the more difficult the climb was, and it seemed almost a miracle when he reached the top.

He slowed and gripped his right side just over his hip. He'd developed a cramp, and instead of picking up speed on the way down the hill, he just let his momentum lazily take him down to the finish. He was somewhat startled to see that waiting at the bottom of the hill was a slender, shadowy figure. He squinted, but it was too dark, and the moonlight alone was not enough to make out the person's features. "Doors," he called out, and the holodeck doors appeared quite literally on command.

He slowed and then came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The figure stepped out of the shadows. "Hi sir," said Wesley Crusher cheerily. Picard's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Wesley was dressed for a run, it appeared, complete with a towel around his neck, a jogging suit that looked three sizes too big, and a ridiculous looking sweatband around his forehead. He stuck out his arm abruptly offering Picard the towel, which the Captain took, with a grateful yet bemused expression.

"I hope you don't mind, sir, but I saw you a little while ago in the corridor on my way back from class. And, well I'd never seen you wearing shorts before, sir, so I sort of assumed you would be going for a run…and I remembered how you said we could go running together, and well…here I am," he said nervously. "But I can see you've already finished sir, so if this isn't a good time—"

Picard put his hand up to stop the boy from continuing to rattle on. "Mr. Crusher…I mean, Wesley," he said attempting to soften his tone. Why did he always sound so harsh? "If you'd like to run this course, it is wonderful. Let's stretch for a minute and I will run it with you."

"Awesome! I mean yes, sir."

Picard looked at him, and a feeling of what he now recognized must be affection began to creep into his head and heart again. Looking at the boy, he wondered if he had ever felt these feelings for Wesley when the boy was younger. He couldn't remember. He did remember feeling uncomfortable around Welsey as a toddler, and frankly that feeling was still there, but now he felt something else; a kinship. He'd been estranged from his own brother for years, and his parents were dead. The amount of close friends he had who were still living could be counted on his hands.

And yet, here was this teenage boy, who he never would have imagined having much in common with, and he could feel that a definite bond was growing. And he could see that Wesley was trying so hard, perhaps too hard, to impress him. He had to be careful, given his…attraction to the boy's mother, not to muddle the situation and give the boy the idea that he could be a reliable father figure. Wesley was likely to end up disappointed. _Oh hell_, he thought, _so much is so uncertain right now. _What would Walker have said? "_Just go with the flow, Jean-Luc,"_ or something or other of that nature.

"No, no," he said correcting the gangly teen, who was attempting to stretch out. "You've got to stretch this part here in front, or you will get shin splints. Here, watch me," he said showing the boy the correct way to stretch. If he had looked up to see the happily adoring expression on Wesley's face, he would have likely been embarrassed.

* * *

After the run, Picard walked Wesley back to the Crushers' living quarters. They didn't talk much on the way. When they reached the door, Wesley looked up at Picard. "Have you eaten yet sir? Mom had some reports to catch up on, so she said to just go ahead and eat without her since it's getting kind of late."

Picard shifted his gaze back and forth contemplating a means of escape. "Er…I really should be getting back," he said, as Wesley ignored him and walked into the living area. For some reason, Picard stepped in behind him. He glanced around, feeling as though he was intruding on Beverly Crusher's privacy. The fact that she wasn't there, didn't help. He consciously avoided even looking in the direction of what he assumed was her bedroom.

"When Mom's not here I get to eat whatever I want," called out Wesley from across the room. He turned to Wesley, who was walking back toward him holding two bowls of something. He put the bowls down on the dining table, and shoved one of them in Picard's direction. "This is my favorite thing to eat," he said and without further explanation began to demonstrate.

Picard hesitated to sit down, and decided against it. After all, he was completely covered in sweat and he doubted Beverly would appreciate it on her chairs. Still standing, Picard poked at the contents of the bowl, shoving circular pieces of some kind of grain around in a sea of cold milk. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

Wesley looked up wide-eyed with his mouth full, looking as though he never thought he would hear that question coming from anyone. "Cheerios, sir," he said, and a thin stream of milk dribbled down his chin. "It's an ancient Earth delicacy, sir."

"Ah," said Picard, eyebrows raised. Well, he was rather hungry. He picked up the bowl, and had just taken a spoonful of the surprisingly delicious cereal into his mouth when Doctor Crusher walked in.

She didn't see him, as she came in and threw her coat and tricorder onto a nearby chair. He watched, taking quick mouthfuls of the cereal, as she stormed around the living area.

"So get this, Wes'. Wilson says to me, Doctor, we've only got two full body scanners in the ER in sickbay four, and I need at least one more. Can you believe that? In my hospital at Starfleet Medical I only had two scanners and he's on a damn starship! I mean, we're doing the best we can with what we have. The real problem is that there are too many doctors on this ship, and most of them seem to think they know better than I do…well I said to him—" She stopped short as she turned around and saw the Captain standing there, staring at her, eating cereal and wearing running shorts.

"Oh," she said, because nothing else came to mind. She looked at her son for some kind of explanation, but he was munching cereal with abandon, and staring at her blankly. _Why is he wearing that silly headband_? she wondered.

Picard was apologetic. He carefully put the cereal bowl down on the table. "My apologies, Doctor. I didn't mean to intrude. Wesley had joined me for a run, and…"

"I see that," she said, looking him up and down with a slightly impish expression. "And now you're encouraging him to eat cereal for dinner when I _expressly_ told him that he had to eat something more," she said walking behind her son and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Right, Wesley?"

Wesley froze. "Uh huh," he said, putting down the bowl full of milk he had been slurping from. "Sorry Mom. But don't blame Captain Picard. He didn't even know what Cheerios were," he said.

Crusher was unable to hide her amusement. "Oh, really?" she said straightening up. Wesley got up and moved around his mother. He grabbed both bowls and brought them across to the recycler.

Picard suddenly felt completely self-conscious in his shorts and sweaty shirt. "He's right. I had no idea what a cheerio was. But they are quite delicious," he added.

Crusher smiled softly. "You can have a seat, Captain. You don't have to stand on my account."

"Oh I wasn't. I mean I would stand on your account to be polite, that is, but at the moment I was just…"

She raised her eyebrows and bit her bottom lip, but said nothing.

He sighed, frustrated. "I hadn't been to your quarters before and I thought it rude to sit on your furniture in my current state. As you can see, I'm not very suitable at the moment."

Crusher sat down at the table and looked up at him. "Do I look like I mind?"

He didn't know what to say and as he caught her gaze, he immediately thought back to the moment, or several moments when she had kissed him. It had been just earlier in the afternoon, and it was less a memory than a present sensation in his mind and body. Her mouth curled into a small smile as she looked at him, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Mom?" Picard's gaze snapped up as Wesley was speaking, and realizing suddenly that he had come back to join them at the table. "Are you hungry? What about you, Captain? I can replicate you both something—"

Picard backed away uneasily. "Actually, I really must be going. Thank you for the run, Wesley, and for the dinner. Doctor," he said with a slight bow of his head as he turned to exit her quarters.

"Captain," said Crusher matching his formal goodbye as she watched him leave. "Nice shorts," she added faintly, as the doors hissed shut.

* * *

T'Pel stood staring out the observation deck. Her wounds had healed well enough and she felt much stronger. But she was concerned that her brother seemed to be healing just as fast, and that a strong Ra'Val was good for no one. She was not certain how he intended to accomplish his goal of uniting Vulcans under his new philosophy which appeared to worship the power of emotion, but she knew his first step would have to be the destruction of the council.

Suddenly a flurry of green flashes caught her eye out the viewport and she moved forward swiftly. Placing her hands on the glass she leaned out to get a better view. Immediately she saw that the Andorians ships had begun firing on the defensive perimeter set up around Vulcan. The smaller Vulcan defense force fighters flew at incredible rates of speed, twisting in and out between the bulky Andorian ships and racing back again.

She saw the largest and lead Andorian ship issue weapons fire down at the planet itself, and she could only guess that they were targeting the Council building complex. The Council was heavily fortified inside and out and for now at least, protected by a defensive shield. T'Pel shut her eyes. How ironic that her brother would be aided in his goal by the Andorians. She knew it was a matter of time before he made a move. And she doubted if she would have the power to stop him this time, which meant that she would have to die trying.

* * *

Picard had just finished showering and dressing, when the alarm sounded. "Red Alert, Red Alert," announced the computer. "This is Admiral Imhoff. All crew to report immediately to battle stations." For some reason, Picard thought of Beverly Crusher_. I should have stayed for dinner, _he thought, as he rushed out of his cabin.

When he reached the bridge, the place seemed in chaos. Riker and Imhoff were both barking orders at the crew. Imhoff turned for a moment to regard him coldly as he stepped on to the bridge. He resisted the urge to demand a report. Instead, he stood silently next to Worf at tactical.

Riker walked over to Imhoff. "Admiral, we've just received a message from T'Pel. She is recommending an increased security presence down in cargo bay 4, sir. She's there herself right now, sir."

"Why?" demanded Imhoff.

Riker straightened. "The Council is under attack Admiral, and T'Pel seems to think that as soon as its defenses are weak enough Ra'Val will launch his own attack."

"That's preposterous! He's in a fortified energy prison."

"One we all agreed will not hold indefinitely," interrupted Picard.

Imhoff turned to him. "Are you predicting that a single man is going to destroy the entire Council complex, Picard? Come now," he said condescendingly and turned back to Riker.

"I say we follow her recommendation, sir," said Riker. He tried to breathe normally. He knew that if Picard had been in command, the decision would have been made minutes ago, and they would have moved on to other concerns. But Picard was not in command.

Picard spoke up again. "Admiral, I will go to the cargo bay and assess the situation with T'Pel. I can send you a report from there," he offered.

Imhoff turned to him again, with a bare look of anger. "Trying to be the dethroned hero, Picard? I'll go with you to see for myself," he snapped.

Riker turned red. "Admiral, with all due respect, even though we don't appear to be the target of any fire from either side right now, there is a battle raging just a few thousand meters away. You should not be leaving the bridge at this time, sir."

"Handle it, Riker," snapped Imhoff, following Picard into the turbo lift. "You're too old to need a babysitter."

* * *

"That was unnecessarily harsh, Admiral," said Picard stonily once they were headed down in the turbo lift. "The man was merely offering his recommendation and you just attempted to humiliate him in front of the crew."

Imhoff smirked. "Don't act as though you wouldn't have said something similar, Picard. Don't forget I've seen you in action."

"Actually, I would not have said something similar, Admiral, because as Captain I would not have left the bridge during battle."

"Yes, and from what I recall, you won't leave a burning ship on the verge of destruction even when ordered to."

"Is this always going to be about the _Stargazer_ Admiral? You seem unable to trust me because of what you believe I did, or rather what you believe I didn't do that day when my ship was falling apart. That was nine damn years ago."

Imhoff fell silent, and Picard for the first time noticed a thin red line, across the man's nose. _How strange_, he thought. Imhoff shifted uncomfortably, as he noticed Picard looking at him. "Whatever she told you isn't the full story," he said suddenly.

Picard's brow furrowed. "Who?" The turbo lift stopped and they stepped out in unison, heading for the cargo bay. Picard's gaze was still fixed on Imhoff. "What are you talking about? What story?"

"I suppose I deserved to get hit, but a broken nose? I didn't think she had it in her. Of course I didn't try to do anything to Beverly you haven't fantasized about yourself," he added almost lazily.

Picard stepped in front of him suddenly, which caused Imhoff to stop abruptly to avoid bumping heads with Picard. He tried to step around Picard, but Picard moved at the same time blocking his path. "What are you talking about?" he demanded in a low, voice. "Why did she hit you? What did you do to her? Did you touch her?" He stared into Imhoff's eyes and neither of them moved.

"Oh no," said Imhoff. "But I would have liked to. Does that bother you?"

"Stay away from Beverly Crusher," Picard threatened. They stood outside the cargo bay now, and he could feel his anger beginning to overcrowd his mind.

"Or what? Are you going to hit me too? Maybe I'll see you both court-martialed and you can finally spend quality time together in a prison cell."

The cargo bay doors opened and the security officer stood there with T'Pel. "Everything alright here, sirs?" said the officer looking from one man to the other. The officer had a faraway look in his eye.

* * *

T'Pel was gazing at Picard serenely, and he felt his mind immediately calm down. He didn't try to stop the Admiral again as Imhoff stalked in to the bay ahead of him. T'Pel took him aside. "Captain," she said quietly, "it is extremely important that you heed what I am about to tell you. My brother is exerting his influence over all who come into this cargo bay. The security officer here does not know it, but his casual attitude and lack of concern are being caused by Ra'Val. No matter what Imhoff says to you, you must not react in the way that feels most natural to you at that moment. Most importantly you must reject your aggressive feelings."

Picard blinked and nodded. He had been only half listening. He could not believe what Imhoff had told him. Beverly hadn't said anything to him. Had she been hurt? She had looked well, but her feelings were often a mystery. At least physically she had appeared unharmed and clearly she had gotten the better end of the deal, considering Imhoff's rather severe injury. He smiled slightly. She was a person of many hidden strengths and abilities. Unconsciously, he touched the bridge of his own nose.

Focusing on clearing his mind, he stepped into the bay and walked over to the generator. He checked the strength of the beam being projected from the generator. It was only at eighty-eight percent of what it should be, yet the generator itself was at full-power. Was Ra'Val himself be weakening the beam from within the energy bubble? He played around with the controls, and was able to bump the beam up to ninety-two percent.

Stepping away, he looked at Imhoff, who had moved closer to Ra'Val and was staring up at the motionless Vulcan as though enraptured. "Admiral," said Picard warily. He hesitated to walk closer to join the Admiral, remembering what T'Pel had said. "The field strength is weakening."

"Let's get the engineers in here to fix it," said Imhoff.

"Yes sir," said Picard. "But it will be a temporary fix, I am afraid. The only way to keep the crew safe is to get Ra'Val off of this ship."

Imhoff's eyes turned a cloudy grey color. "You first," he said darkly.

"Pardon me?" asked Picard, confused.

"I want to see you leave the ship first, Picard. Right out of the airlock. And this time when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it," he said, and then ran, full force toward the Captain.

Picard leapt out of the way and rolled, coming to his feet just in time to see Imhoff running toward him again. This time, Picard tried to duck, but Imhoff threw an arm across his chest, slamming him to the deck. He must have been under the influence of Ra'Val, because the strength of the man was suddenly superhuman. Picard jumped to his feet and touched the back of his head, feeling a cut at the base of his skull. He shook his head dizzily and looked around for Imhoff.

To his surprise, Imhoff seemed frozen in mid-run at him. His expression was as determined as ever, but he wasn't moving. Picard looked around and saw that T'Pel stood behind him and that her eyes were fixed on Imhoff. It was apparently she who was holding him fast. Picard shouted at the security officer who was finally running to his aid. "Restrain him," breathed Picard. "And then take him to the brig."


	32. Chapter 32

** Chapter 32**

**The Vulcan High Council**

Delegate Stahl stood on his office veranda staring out and up at the spectacle above. He and the other members of the Council were quite secure in their belief that they were well protected from the Andorian ships. Immense phased defense cannons fired up through the thin Vulcan atmosphere, answering the energy beams discharged by the Andorian battle cruisers. Distantly he could perceive tiny dart-like fighters skimming the stratosphere. The pilots of the Vulcan fleet were very adept, and he had no doubt that they would successfully defend their home world. But as he considered the other looming threat, the one few spoke of, his mind grew restless, causing him to look up again, and he no longer felt so secure.

* * *

**Enterprise**

Later that night, after the incident in cargo bay 4, Captain Picard sat in his quarters after having communicated with Starfleet Command about the incident with Admiral Imhoff. Imhoff had spent not even an hour in the brig, before a posh looking ambassador's shuttle arrived for him. When he left, he had to be carried aboard the shuttle, and really, the man did not look well. He didn't seem to even recognize Picard as he left, fixing him with a faraway expression. It seemed, that Picard's removal from command, the sham of an inquiry into his handling of Ra'Val had all been "an unfortunate mistake" according to Vice Admiral Nechayev, and he was summarily restored to command, with no further explanation, and no ceremony, which was fine with him. Admiral Nechayev also assured him that there would be no "further interference" with his command of the _Enterprise_, which certainly was what he had wanted to hear.

So much had happened in the last 24 hours that the whole series of events now seemed like a blur. He was careful not to jostle his head too much, as his head wound was making him feel woozy. T'Pel and Counselor Troi had met with him briefly to make sure he was free from Ra'Val's influence. At least, he was as free as anyone could be on this ship at this very moment, with a telepathic madman on board.

He had been astonished at the abilities he had witnessed T'Pel display. She was so different in most respects to the person he had known all those years ago. But most significantly, whatever training she had endured to complete Kolinahr had given her abilities far superior to anything he would have ever thought Vulcans were capable of. But then he had never met a Vulcan who had achieved Kolinahr. He wondered if there was some genetic anomaly T'Pel and her brother shared, which caused them to have natural telekinetic and telepathic abilities which were superior to other Vulcans. Perhaps she had always been gifted in this way, and he had simply never known. He found himself feeling glad, once more, to have T'Pel on their side.

Both Troi and T'Pel had recommended that he go to sick bay for examination, but he brushed them off. The truth was that he did want to go and see Beverly, very much so, but not so that she could fix up his wound. And he certainly was not interested in seeing the ER doctor. So he stayed in his quarters, had a shower and then went to bed.

While attempting to fall asleep he wondered why Commander Zatha had decided to go against her principles and fire on the Vulcan defense ships. He was disappointed, but could not say that he was surprised. He simply did not know Zatha well enough to have any expectations. And now, he thought it unlikely that he would have a chance to speak to her again on good terms, if she was now allied with General Thran.

* * *

**The next morning…**

Walker Keel's astonished face filled the computer screen in the Captain's ready room. "What the hell happened over there last night, Jean-Luc? The admirals at Starfleet Command are going out of their collective minds trying to figure this one out. Did Imhoff really lose it?"

Picard tapped his fingers on the desk. "T'Pel and Counselor Troi seem to think that his hatred of me was enhanced and deliberately twisted by Ra'Val. There is no doubt that Imhoff hated me, but Ra'Val seemed to have taken the old grudges Imhoff was holding against me and amplified them. When Imhoff first came aboard, he met us in the cargo bay, where Ra'Val has been located, and he announced that he was removing me from command for the foreseeable future. Ra'Val must have seized upon that as a way of gradually removing me from as a threat to his control of the Enterprise until he could do so more permanently."

"What do you mean?"

"Imhoff tried to kill me last night; or rather Ra'Val tried to use Imhoff to kill me."

"I see that he failed miserably," said Walker drolly. "In all seriousness, though Jean-Luc, you seem willing to let Imhoff off the hook easily enough," remarked Walker. "After all, if he hadn't been so irrationally upset with you in the first place, he wouldn't have made himself so vulnerable to influence. He is at least _partly_ to blame for this."

Picard shrugged. "As far as I am concerned my crew is safer now that Imhoff is off my ship. And I have my command back, no questions asked."

"About damn time," said Walker. "You said he's off ship and you didn't say anything about shoving him out of the airlock, so where is he now?"

Picard made a face, not quite sure if he found the situation as amusing as his old friend seemed to. His splitting headache didn't help. He gingerly touched the back of his head, where Imhoff had slammed him against the deck. "Starfleet sent a shuttle to pick him up, Walker, and brought him to the nearest star base. I couldn't very well leave him in the brig, could I?"

Walker broke into a slow smile. "But I bet it felt good, sending him there for as long as it lasted, didn't it?"

Picard could not help but match Walker's smile, but he said nothing. "So what are your orders, Walker?" he asked, growing serious again.

"Same as your orders, Jean-Luc. The _Horatio_ has been ordered to stay out of the line of fire until a diplomatic window opens up—assuming that one does. The emphasis was placed on not taking sides."

Picard glanced away, as the door to his office chimed. "Walker I've got to go. Let's keep each other informed of any developments." Walker nodded and the screen went black, just as the door chimed again.

* * *

"Come," he called out, and stood up.

It was Beverly Crusher. He took in a sharp breath, which lately seemed to be the norm when he saw her. As usual, she was stunning just dressed in her professional clothes, but she did not look happy; specifically, she appeared worried and angry. Seeing her demeanor, he slowly sat back down. After last night's incident with Imhoff, he was uninterested in confrontation. But interested or not, here she was.

She stormed in and sat down across from him, and slapped a hypo spray on his desk. She put her medical kit down on the desk next to it and opened it up and glared at him. He realized that the neutral expression he was trying to convey was not moving the conversation forward. "Doctor, can I help you?"

"Yes, Captain, you_ can_ help me," she snapped. "You can tell me why you didn't report to sickbay after sustaining an injury to your head last night. I had to hear about it from T'Pel, who informed me you slammed the back of your head on the steel deck. Do you realize that you could have died last night in your sleep? Oh, you are incredibly irresponsible…"

"Now, Doctor-"he protested.

"And completely stubborn," she finished, filling the hypo spray.

He suddenly felt his own anger rise to the surface. "And when were you going to tell me about your confrontation with Imhoff?"

Shocked by his question, Beverly grew pale. "How did you find out about that?"

He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, wincing slightly as the back of his head tapped the headrest on his chair. "You had no intentions of telling me, did you?" he said with a tight smile. "What if he had tried to attack you again; what if his behavior had escalated?" He sighed loudly and got up and began pacing the room.

"I can take care of myself," she said quietly.

"Oh, that much is clear. I'm quite impressed you were able to disable him so efficiently and perhaps he deserved even more than what you dealt him. But you see, he was under the influence of Ra'Val, and as your commanding officer, it would have been the _appropriate_ thing for you to tell me what had happened, Doctor."

She stood up to face him, looking him in the eye. "You weren't even in command at the time, what would you have done?"

"I would rather not say what I would have done, had I known that he threatened you in any way," he said with quiet intensity. She flushed involuntarily, highly aware that she was touched by what he just said, and slightly embarrassed that she was.

"That's very comforting to hear you say," she said honestly and without thinking, moved closer to him.

"I don't need to be in command to care what happens to the members of my crew," he assured her. The subtle change in her expression instantly told him he had uttered the wrong words.

She stared at him and took a step back. "Your crew? Is that why you were so worried? So if Data or Geordi had been in the same situation—"

"No," he interrupted gruffly. "That was not what I meant." She watched him closely. He was struggling with something.

"I'm listening, Jean-Luc," she said almost daring him. "Tell me what you really meant to say." She felt her heart begin to beat faster in anticipation of what she wished he would say and also for what she hoped he would not say.

He looked away, looked down, and finally shook his head. "I can't," he muttered, looking back up at her. She felt a wave of disappointment move through her. One day before she had shown her own feelings, albeit physically, by kissing him passionately, and this was all he had to give? He had certainly seemed to enjoy it at the time, but now she really could not be sure. And to think she had openly ogled him in his shorts just last night. The very thought made her completely embarrassed now. Beverly suddenly wanted to slap him; not break his nose, but slap him across the face just to make a point.

Instead she reached up with the hypo spray, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Turn around please," said and he obliged. "Let me see what happened here," she said softly. She felt another wave of irritation as she examined the cut. He had a giant knot on the back of his head right at the base of his skull. "Ow," he grumbled, when she poked at the cut.

She sighed in exasperation. "Did you even clean this, Jean-Luc?" God, was he that afraid to be alone with her that he couldn't even come and get properly treated in sick bay?

"Yes, I took a shower afterwards. I couldn't really see it in the bathroom mirror, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding…." She rolled her eyes, not caring whether he could see her or not.

She held the back of his neck gently and used a cleaning agent. "Hold still while I stitch it up. You can't continue to walk around with a gaping open wound on the back of your head. Do you know that people used to die of infections because of small wounds like this?"

"Hmm," was his only response. The derma-repair tool tickled and burned slightly, but it took no more than a few seconds to do the job.

The more she stared at the back of his head, the more her anger came back. Finally finished, she stepped away from him and began to pack her tools away. "In the future Captain, please consider that people can still die of infections in the 24th century if they fail to use common sense and visit their doctors," she said sharply, snapping the med kit shut.

She walked as fast as she could to the door, but she heard his footsteps coming behind her.

"Beverly, I am sorry," he said, stepping between her and the exit. "Please wait." His voice was commanding, but his eyes actually seemed to be pleading with her.

"Why?" she said frostily, turning halfway to face him. She was surprised when he grasped her free hand in both of his. To her further astonishment, he brought her hand up to his cheek and kissed her palm softly, watching her expression. She sucked in a breath and stepped backwards still holding her med kit loosely in her right hand. He stepped closer to her and suddenly they were pressed against the wall with no room between them. "What are you doing?" she said trying to catch her breath.

"I have no idea," he said, just as breathlessly, and then kissed her roughly. She immediately responded by grabbing him behind his shoulder blade and pulling him toward her. He heard her drop the med kit, and felt it land on his foot. His eyes widened, but he actually felt no pain. "Sorry," she mumbled apologetically, quickly pulling away for a moment. He muttered something unintelligible about it not mattering, and they resumed what they had been doing, stopping only occasionally to breathe. Their hands moved with a mutual urgency, and it wasn't until they began to tug at each other's clothing that they realized that things were perhaps moving too fast for the Captain's office.

"Counselor Troi to Captain Picard," Troi's voice emitted from his communicator. Picard moved away from Beverly reluctantly, but didn't break eye contact. Beverly smoothed out her lab coat and touched her mouth self-consciously. She glanced down behind her and for the first time noticed that there was a fish tank built into the wall, the very wall she had been pressed against moments before. _How bizarre_, she thought, and laughed nervously, reaching down to pick up the med kit.

Picard stooped down quickly, "please allow me," he said, grabbing it and handing it to her. "Thank you," she said, still looking at him tenderly. "Um," she prompted and pointed at his communicator.

He looked surprised. He had forgotten already that Troi had called him. "Picard here," he said. "My apologies for the delay, Counselor," he said. "I was…delayed," he winced at how inane his own words sounded.

Troi's response was immediate. "Perfectly understandable, Captain…when you have a few minutes, could I speak with you in my office?"

"Yes," he said tersely. "I'll be there shortly." His expression softened again when he regarded Crusher. "I'm sorry, Beverly, but I must be going," he said with a small smile. He turned to leave, but she stopped him gently.

"Don't you think I should leave first? It is your office after all. Or we could leave together…what would look less suspicious?"

Picard nodded. "It's probably best if you go first." He touched the back of his head lightly. "Thank you, it feels so much better already," he said.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I'm sure it does," before leaving.

* * *

Riker, smiled and nodded at Doctor Crusher as she stepped out of the ready room and headed for the turbo lift. He could not help but notice that she seemed pretty happy and had a spring in her step she hadn't had when she practically kicked down the Captain's door about 20 minutes earlier. "Must have been some house call," he muttered under his breath.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**_On board the Striker_**

"Guard, come here," she demanded from her cell. Zatha could tell that he was afraid of her. No doubt he wondered how long it would be until the tables were turned and she was out of this cell and once again in a position of power. Would she show him mercy? Perhaps all of these things were floating through the guard's head, or perhaps she was just imagining the scent of fear in the air.

"Guard!" she shouted again. Slowly he inched his way over to her, hand placed securely on his weapon in case she decided to try and jump through the force-field barrier.

"What do you want, prisoner?" He demanded.

"I want a favor from you," said Zatha.

The guard started to smile as though such an idea was almost humorous but then seemed to think better of it, and scowled.

"What kind of favor?" he said gruffly.

"I want to know whether there have been any subspace communications sent from this ship since we arrived here at Vulcan."

"You mean by General Thran? What's in it for me?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"To begin with, when I get out of here, I won't kill you. And if there is anyone else left alive, I'll make you part of my bridge crew."

The guard seemed to consider her offer. At the moment, she did not even have a ship. And for all he knew she was scheduled for execution once they returned home. On the other hand, he had been in line for a promotion for some time now but nothing ever seemed to come his way. This could beat going through the usual channels…then again he could end up being killed personally by General Thran. "What if they find out I agreed to help you?" he questioned warily.

Zatha's antennae pointed straight up as she looked at him slyly. "If I were you I wouldn't let them find out."

* * *

**_USS Enterprise_**

"Captain, thank you for coming," said Troi, walking to the door of her office to meet him. She touched his arm lightly and beckoned him in. "Please sit down", she said in a welcoming tone and gestured for him to sit. She sat down and continued to look up at him with a polite expression as he continued to stand stiffly.

As Captain Picard looked around, he noticed her office was now decorated somewhat luxuriously. He supposed many people who visited here _presumably her patients_, he thought, were quite comforted by the soft colors and low lighting, and he conceded that this was in fact the purpose of such decoration. Picard on the other hand was used to the stark environment of space travel and really needed very little now to make him comfortable. He realized with some surprise that he had perhaps become accustomed to discomfort, which seemed to suggest that discomfort for him had somehow become...comfortable. _How very strange, _he thought_._ He sighed and slowly sat down in a chair, sitting very straight.

Now sitting across from Counselor Troi, she watched him expectantly. He tapped his fingers on his thighs. _What is she waiting for? She is the one who asked me here, and I haven't a thing to say_, he thought. He could not help but notice that she was wearing another of her low-cut, one-piece uniforms that had been no doubt turning heads around the ship. He also noticed that she looked even more exotically beautiful in the low light. He shifted his gaze. Noticing her beauty made him uneasy, because he didn't want her to think he was gawking at her. _Don't stare_, he actually chided himself. Of course he respected her as a professional person, even if he still had some difficulty reconciling her role in the crew as of yet.

What began to make him even more uncomfortable was that he began to think about Beverly, how she smelled, how she felt… he could feel his chest and neck growing hot, and then he was entirely uncomfortable. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms over his chest. "It's a bit warm in here, isn't it?" he mentioned, leaning back in his chair.

Troi looked surprised at this suggestion. "I'm fine, Captain," she said. "But if you would like me to adjust the environmental controls—"

"No," he said abruptly. "Look. Counselor, why did you ask me here?"

"To talk…Captain, I must say, you seem very distracted."

"I _am_ distracted Counselor, I need to return to my work on the bridge as soon as possible."

"Oh. Well, I apologize for interrupting your work, sir," she said with a slight smile. Did she know what he had actually been doing when she had called him? It hadn't exactly been work. He shifted in his seat. "Aside from being busy with the duties that come with being the captain of a starship, how are you feeling sir?"

"Quite well," he said stiffly. She smiled at him serenely. He stared back at her and a few silent moments passed. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he asked, beginning to feel annoyed.

"Well, Captain… in the last 72 hours or so you have escaped death several times, have been put through the psychological wringer along with the rest of the crew, you had your command taken away and then restored, and now..."

"Now…what?"

"Now I would like to know how you feel about all of it."

"I'm not at all accustomed to discussing my _feelings_, counselor."

"You say 'feelings' as though it is an obscene word," she laughed.

He shook his head. "There is nothing particularly wrong with having feelings, Counselor. I simply said that I am not accustomed to discussing them."

"With counselors?"

"With anyone," he clarified flatly.

She paused, not sure if the conversation could get any worse. "Well, that sounds very convenient for you, Captain, but it is my job to ask these questions. It is also my job to ensure the psychological welfare of this crew. Arguably, your psychological well-being is the most important of all the crew, since you are our leader. So would you do me the favor of breaking with your custom for a few minutes?"

He glared at her and it seemed to her that he was considering his options. For a moment she wondered if he would walk out of her office. But then, he inhaled sharply through his nose and said "Yes."

"Thank you, Captain," she said feeling somewhat relieved. She leaned forward to regard him with a soft smile. "Now. How do you feel now that Admiral Imhoff has left the ship?" she asked, studying his face carefully.

He rubbed his hands on his knees. "Relieved," he said. "…now that I can return to my duties."

She straightened. "I see," she said. "It was difficult for you, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said seriously.

"Well, you didn't agree with the decision to remove you from command, did you?"

"No, of course not," he snapped. "But one just doesn't…complain about such things."

"You mean you personally wouldn't complain?" she said. "Why not?"

"Well there are times to question an order, and other times to simply do what is asked of you."

Deanna Troi's face registered faint surprise. "Even if you disagree, and feel the order is unjust?"

"Yes," said Picard. "I expect my crew to carry out orders every day that they may or may not agree with. Why should I be any different?"

"And yet...at least in theory you would consider it acceptable for one of your subordinates to question or disobey an order that they reasonably consider to be unjust?"

He paused, but then nodded slowly. "Yes, depending on the circumstances, of course."

Troi smiled. "For someone with your reputation, that is a very refreshing answer, Captain," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "And that reputation would be…"

"Have you ever seen your psych profile?"

"I assumed one had been created somewhere within the recesses of my personnel file, but no," he said. _What game was she playing?_

She took a data pad from the table next to her. "Here are some of the words used to describe you by Starfleet psychologists over the years, Captain, and I hope you won't be offended…"exacting, inflexible, over confident, arrogant, bold, resourceful, cold…shall I go on?"

Picard glared at her. "Counselor, surely they aren't all negative attributes."

"No, certainly not," admitted Troi. "But do you believe they accurately describe you? Do you believe you are an arrogant man?"

He laughed, but there was little humor in it. "I don't know Counselor. I am what I am, I suppose. I try not to be a difficult person, but no doubt I still am. You should consider however, that several of those psych evaluations were completed after…well, after traumatic experiences."

"Ah…in which you were suffering from trauma," she stated as though she were confirming something he had just admitted.

His eyes flashed with anger. "That is not what I said," he said stiffening visibly.

Troi's expression remained serene. "Captain, if they were not your traumatic experiences, then whose were they?"

_She's trying to get into my head. _"Several…deaths have occurred under my command, and even before I had my own command I experienced the death of colleagues, and then I lost the _Stargazer_…I suppose I was questioned after each of those incidents as per protocol. What I said during any of those interviews I don't recall."

_What an incredibly evasive answer_, thought Troi. "Captain is it that you don't want to give me the perception that you are weak, or were you really that unaffected by the deaths of your colleagues, and the loss of your ship?"

Picard glowered. "What an insulting thing to say," he snapped.

"Which part?" said Troi.

"To suggest that I am unaffected by these things is completely outrageous."

"I agree," said Troi. "And in my opinion, you _were_ highly affected and deeply traumatized by these events and yet you give the appearance of having not been. Why is that?"

He continued to stare at her, but something subtle in his expression changed. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I suppose I don't believe it is anyone's business to know how I feel," he said.

"So, we are back there again. You might find your attitude about feelings difficult to maintain once you embark on a new relationship, Captain."

He swallowed. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, fearing he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I am talking about your changing relationship with Beverly Crusher," she said gently. His immediate, yet silent reaction to her statement was palpable. _And another barrier has been raised,_ she thought. _He thinks it is none of my business but he is not surprised that I know. _"Captain, I only raise the issue, because I can see that it is troubling you." To her surprise his reaction held some amusement, inwardly of course. Apparently grappling with this issue was not new for him.

"I can assure you, Counselor, that Beverly Crusher does not trouble me," he said as calmly as possible.

"But your strong feelings for her do trouble you." Troi did a mental double-take at his non-verbal reaction. _He has always had these feelings for her._

He sighed and looked at her as though really seeing her for the first time. "Counselor, I wish that I could remember a time when I did not feel troubled by these feelings."

_Thank you for finally being honest._ "Have you discussed your feelings with Beverly? Perhaps she would understand," she suggested.

"Perhaps she would not," he said obstinately.

"Don't you think that half a lifetime of waiting has made it worth the risk of finding out, Captain?"

* * *

**_The Striker_**

Zatha woke up from a brief nap. The guard had returned…

"There have been no communications from this ship aside from one call to the_ Ishran_ when you were still in command and one after you had been deposed."

"No incoming or outgoing transmissions from the High Command?"

"No, Commander- I mean prisoner..."

"Very well," said Zatha. "Your efforts and loyalty will not go unrewarded," she said. "As long as I am not executed before you," she added.

She wondered if he understood the importance of this information. If General Thran had not been regularly communicating with the High Command then he had gone rogue—he had no authorization to do what he was doing, which she assumed by now was escalating the assault on Vulcan. "Now…one more favor," she announced, and the guard's antennae drooped dramatically. "I need you to send a message to a friend of mine."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

"Captain the fighting is getting closer," said Riker, as Picard walked onto the bridge. "No sign of any let up, sir."

Picard nodded and sat down in the command chair fluidly. "Move us to within 15,000 meters of the _Ishran_," he said. "It is time to put a stop to this foolishness. _If we can_, he thought. Ahead full impulse power, shields up."

"Shields up sir," confirmed Yar.

"ETA in five, four, three, two, one Captain," said LaForge. "Fifteen thousand meters, Captain."

"All stop," said Picard.

"Aye sir," said LaForge, as the ship slowed to a stop.

Riker eyed Picard. "What now, sir?"

"Hail the Andorians."

"They're ignoring our hails sir", said Yar.

Picard stood up and walked forward toward the view screen. "Send a message to Commander Zatha: 'The time has come to listen to your conscience'."

"Yes sir, transmitting" said Yar, trying to keep the puzzled tone from her voice.

The flurry of phaser fire continued without interruption. A group of Vulcan fighters made a run at one of the lead cruisers only to be incinerated in multiple flashes of light, save for one tiny ship which was caught on one wing by a searing beam. Instead of exploding, the fighter spun away and came careening crazily toward the _Enterprise_.

"He's about to be toasted by our shields, Captain," called out LaForge.

"Does that little fighter have any shields?" shouted Riker.

"None active, sir," replied Yar quickly.

"Transporter room, stand by to beam the Vulcan pilot directly to the main sickbay," ordered Picard calmly. "Doctor Crusher. You have an incoming casualty," warned Picard.

"We'll be ready, Captain," her voice sounded.

"Captain, he's now in transporter range," said Worf.

"O'Brien do you have a lock on him?" shouted Riker.

"As good as it's gonna be, Commander," pronounced O'Brien's voice from the intercom.

"Energize," said Picard. A moment later, the fighter slammed into the shields and was destroyed instantly. There was no need to ask for a damage report; any harm to the shields would have been negligible. For a few moments everyone held their breath until Picard finally spoke. "Do we have him?"

Crusher's angry and horrified voice on the other end of the communications link made the situation clear. "We have what is left of him, Captain... Crusher out…"

"Hail them again," Picard said quietly, his expression now solemn. _Damn them._

* * *

Without warning, the battle displayed on the view screen was replaced abruptly by the interior of an Andorian ship, the _Ishran_ to be exact. But the officer who appeared on screen was completely unfamiliar to Picard. "Captain Picard," sneered the Andorian. "I am Commander Hakka. To whose conscience are you trying to appeal with your cryptic transmissions?"

"Where is Commander Zatha?" Picard demanded.

"She is…no longer available."

Picard carefully kept his expression neutral, but his mind had been racing since he first noticed that Zatha was nowhere to be seen. "The message was meant for her, but as I see you are now in command, I appeal to you to use some sense."

"Your appeals are of no use to me," said Hakka.

"Hasn't this gone on long enough? What is it you intend to accomplish?"

"That is not your concern."

"If you intend to destroy the foundation of the Federation, it certainly is my concern," snapped Picard. "And just like me you have sworn to uphold the principles of the Federation, which include non-aggression, Commander. Where are those principles now?"

"I am an Andorian first, and a member of the Federation second. We must protect our home world."

Picard shook his head. It was impossible to argue against such a warped view of what constituted protecting one's homeland. Instead he tried a different approach. "Commander Hakka, I invite you to meet aboard my ship to discuss these matters. Let me reach out to the Vulcans, and perhaps we can arrange a cease fire."

Hakka frowned. "I do not have the authority to arrange such a meeting. You must speak to the General."

Picard nodded. "Then can you speak to General Thran and have him call me on a secure channel in two hours?"

Hakka's antennae swiveled back and forth. "I can make no guarantees, but I will pass along your message," he said coldly, before his image disappeared.

Picard shifted in his chair. "Mr. LaForge please bring us to within transporter range of Vulcan, but keep the _Enterprise_ as far away from the fight as possible."

"Aye sir," said Geordi.

Picard got up and swiftly strode toward the turbo lift. Riker stood and watched him. "Number One, you have the bridge," he said as the doors slid shut.

* * *

Crusher glanced up from her conversation when she saw Picard enter sickbay. She put a hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Thank you, Alyssa, please carry on," she said softly. The nurse nodded and then walked quickly away. She straightened slightly as Picard approached.

"Captain," she greeted him with a brief smile, which faded when she remembered why he had come. He was here to view the body of the Vulcan pilot who had arrived minutes ago. She could hardly believe she was seeing him again under such trying circumstances, so soon after being with him in his ready room during those exhilarating few moments. But the mood had turned and now been substituted for one of solemnity. He nodded grimly at her, but said nothing. Realizing there was nothing to say, she gestured for him to follow her.

As they walked wordlessly together down a short brightly-lit corridor adjacent to sick bay, she could not help but recall being in a similar hallway with him ten years ago. She wondered if he often thought of that day and how Jack had looked pale, cold and alone in the star base morgue. She hoped that he did not still think about it. She rarely did. What a cruel day it had been for all of them.

Crusher stopped and quickly typed a code into the wall, and the door to the morgue slid open. Picard shivered involuntarily, and stepped inside. He stood still as Beverly walked to a metal examining table and then turned back to regard him before lifting the white sheet. "Captain, I know you have seen this kind of thing before, but…"

"I've never grown used to it," he said in a muted voice, as he moved to stand next to her. She pulled the sheet back to reveal the pilot as reverently as possible, but the sight was almost unrecognizable as a former person. Bile immediately rose in his throat and he tried not to gag. He placed his palm on the table, just to steady himself and immediately felt Beverly's hand on the small of his back, attempting to soothe him. He straightened, embarrassed.

"His body was soaked in radiation, Captain. We had to put it through decontamination just to make it safe for observation. But as you can see, Jean-Luc, his body was nearly liquefied. Strangely, it also contained large amounts of trilithium ore, which accounts for the high levels of radiation."

"Damn it!" Picard suddenly felt a rage well up within him, and he looked around for something inanimate to strike. Nothing appeared safe to hit, however, and Beverly was still watching him cautiously. He exhaled raggedly, working to get his emotions in check. "I've seen enough," he said in a low voice. She nodded and replaced the sheet.

They exited the morgue together and then stood talking quietly in the hall. Picard stared blankly at a spot just over Crusher's shoulder. "I apologize for my reaction in there, Beverly."

Beverly smiled compassionately and ran her hand lightly down the outside of his arm. "Jean-Luc, if you had no reaction at all to such a horrific thing, I might be a bit concerned about you. Besides, your secret is safe with me," she added, laughing. He caught her hand as it reached his fingers, and he held on to it tightly, not sure what to do next. She held his gaze intensely for a few moments.

"I think we should talk," he said hesitantly, Troi's words irritatingly fresh in his mind.

She looked down at her hand in his and then smiled at him. "Alright," she said, and then stepped a bit closer to him. "When?" She asked, looking into his eyes. He sighed. He simply could not think properly when she was this close to him.

"Soon," he said, feeling slightly disoriented by her nearness. "There are some things that I have been meaning to—to tell you…."

Beverly was still floored by the revelation that he apparently wanted to _talk._ She tried to hide her shock and growing amusement. "Oh…well, I am looking forward to this conversation Jean-Luc—"

"Lt. Yar, to Captain Picard," Yar's clipped tones sounded through his communicator.

Picard and Crusher looked at each other with mutual aggravation. They were quickly learning that there was to be no privacy on this ship. "Go ahead," said Picard.

"You are receiving a private message on a secure channel, Captain. It keeps repeating in a loop, sir."

"Understood," he said. "I'll view it in my quarters. Thank you, Lieutenant." He looked apologetically at the Doctor.

She shrugged, and they walked back into the main sickbay together before parting ways.

* * *

Once in the privacy of his quarters, Picard stood at his personal desk and frowned at the simple sentence displayed across his computer screen. He read the message several times. **_"Thran is operating without authority from the High Command."_** The origin of the message was listed as "unknown". It was not coming from any official channel, and he could only assume that at the very least it meant Zatha was still alive, although based on Hakka's words she was hardly safe. He smiled, because it also meant she was still on his side.

* * *

An hour later Picard had somehow convinced a Vulcan council member to come aboard to discuss a possible cease fire. They now sat together in one of the smaller conference rooms. "Delegate Stahl, I want to thank you for agreeing to beam aboard." Stahl nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing. "I would like to see representatives from Vulcan and Andoria sit down and discuss the possibility of peace," he continued. Stahl said nothing. Picard sat forward, palms flat on the table. "It would seem that a conversation about this subject is overdue," he said. Still his words were met with silence. "So…perhaps if you would tell me your terms—"

"Our terms are of course, simple, Captain. The Andorians will cease their aggression, leave our territory and we will in turn cease any further relations with them."

"While I understand the reasoning behind your terms, sir, the concept of no contact between two of the founding cultures of the Federation is nearly unthinkable."

"No, Captain. What is unthinkable is that the Andorians could launch such a savage attack on my people. It is highly illogical that we would simply agree to resume relations as normal."

"You are correct, of course," said Picard quietly. "While the Andorians were perfectly right to seek justice for their murdered colonists, I have seen no evidence to connect Ra'Val's actions to the Vulcan government or people."

"You have seen no such evidence, because there is none," said Stahl.

Picard tapped the tabletop absently. "What if I were to tell you that General Thran and the other Andorian ships in orbit around Vulcan are not here with permission of the Andorian government?"

Stahl looked at him as though he had two heads. "I would ask you where you obtained such information," said Stahl.

"I have a reliable source inside the Andorian fleet. Thran is on silent running right now, which means his superiors may not know that he has launched an attack on Vulcan."

"And you believe that if they did know they would call off the attack," said Stahl. Picard nodded and then told him what he knew about Delta Vega. When he was finished, Stahl brought his fingertips together and stared out the viewport. "The draw of trilithium ore on the planet Delta Vega is why the High Council ordered it sealed it off all those years ago. It is no surprise that thieves and arms dealers would continue to be interested. It is another example of how uncontrolled emotion continues to threaten peace in this sector."

Picard said nothing. "One such as myself can appreciate a human who seems to understand the problems this lack of controlled emotion causes," Stahl added, fixing Picard with an exacting stare. _A_ _Vulcan compliment,_ thought Picard dryly. _What would Counselor Troi say to that, I wonder?_ Stahl pulled out a tiny tablet and began to type. "I am transmitting this information to the other members if the Council, Captain. We will contact the Andorian government at once."

Picard looked at him. "General Thran commands the lead ship, the _Striker_. What if you were to send a few ships to Delta Vega?" he suggested. "You might distract General Thran to leave orbit in order to protect what he really came here for, and in so doing, weaken the assault on your home world."

"A curious idea, Picard," said Stahl. "But we cannot leave Vulcan with minimal defenses. We have already seen an unnecessary loss of life." Stahl looked at him closely. "You retrieved one of our pilots recently?"

Picard lowered his head. "Yes, Delegate Stahl, but I am afraid he did not survive."

Stahl did not seem surprised. "Were there signs that he was exposed to high levels of radiation?"

Picard nodded. "My chief medical officer confirmed that his body held lethal traces of trilithium."

Stahl's face was completely impassive. "We have seen the same in our dead and wounded. Those wounded by the modified phaser beams do not survive long. Clearly General Thran has decided to test some of his illegal trilithium weaponry on the Vulcan people. "

Even though Stahl displayed no outward emotion, Picard suddenly felt a great sense of sadness for the Vulcan people. "I pledge to you that I will do whatever needs to be done to defend Vulcan," said Picard resolutely.

Stahl stood up smoothly. "It gratifies me to hear you speak those words, Captain." He paused. "Now I have something else to ask of you, Captain Picard, and it is imperative that you agree to my wishes."

Picard's brow furrowed. "I'm listening," he said.

"I must see the criminal before I return to Vulcan…where is Ra'Val?"

* * *

"Jean-Luc we were given clear orders not to take sides," warned Walker Keel, after Picard explained his idea of traveling to Delta Vega to try and draw General Thran's away from Vulcan.

"That was before we learned Thran is completely operating on his own, Walker. He must have found a way to keep his superiors in the dark. That means there is only one side to take; that of defending Vulcan."

Walker seemed to consider his words briefly and then nodded. "So…Zatha is out of power but still calling some shots. Impressive. She reminds me of you a little bit, Jean-Luc…slightly better looking than you of course," added Walker.

"Of course," echoed Picard drolly. "Now Walker, let's be serious here…"

"It's simple," said Walker. "I will take the _Horatio_ to Delta Vega and carry out your plan, while you stay here with the _Enterprise_ and defend Vulcan."

Picard nodded and a slow smile spread across his face. "Always a pleasure working with you, Captain Keel."

"Jean-Luc, you are ever the sweet talker. I'll see you on the other side."

* * *

When Picard stepped out into the hallway, Delegate Stahl was waiting for him. Something made him hesitate, before tapping his communicator. "T'Pel, Doctor Crusher, and Commander Data, please meet me in cargo bay 4 in ten minutes." He turned to Stahl, and his trepidation only seemed to grow. "Let's go," he said.

Data, Doctor Crusher, and T'Pel stood waiting outside cargo bay 4. Apart from Beverly shifting from foot to foot occasionally with her med kit, they stood in silence. As she had been when Data and Crusher had arrived a few minutes earlier, T'Pel stood with her head down and her hands clasped in front of her. She appeared to be meditating and wore her hood pulled down over her eyes. She had recently been fitted with a new cybernetic arm, and for some reason had chosen not to finish it with synthetic skin. The result was a dangerous looking robotic metal forearm and hand protruding from a simple brown Vulcan cloak. It was an arresting sight.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"General, one of the starships is leaving orbit," the helmsman alerted him. General Thran sat forward in his command chair with interest. He was so high up that he could not help but look down on his entire bridge crew. And that was what he preferred.

'Is it the _Enterprise_?"

"No, sir. The…_Horatio_," said the helmsman.

"Track the ship's flight pattern," Thran ordered. "See if you can predict its course."

"The ship appears to be heading out of the sector, General."

They all watched the ship slowly crawl away. Suddenly, it went into warp and disappeared with a flash. "Let me know where it—"

"General the ship has just reappeared on our sensors. It is in orbit around a small ice planet, sir."

Thran stood up quickly. "Which planet?" he demanded.

"The planet is known as…Delta Vega, sir."

Thran began to breathe more heavily than seemed necessary to the _Striker's_ bridge crew. "Find that ship," he bellowed.

"But sir, are we authorized to leave Vulcan?"

The helmsman watched as the General's coloring turned about three shades darker. His jowly face seemed to shiver slightly. "We are authorized to do anything I say we must do. Now intercept that ship!" he roared furiously.

Only one person could have been responsible for discovering his motivation and releasing this knowledge to Starfleet. The traitor! He would kill Zatha with his bare hands, but not before claiming his property on Delta Vega.

* * *

Data, Doctor Crusher, and T'Pel stood waiting outside cargo bay 4. Apart from Beverly occasionally shifting from foot to foot with her med kit clasped in front of her, they stood in silence. As she had been when Data and Crusher had arrived a few minutes earlier, T'Pel stood with her head down and her hands clasped in front of her. She appeared to be meditating and wore her hood pulled down over her eyes.

T'Pel had recently been fitted with a new cybernetic arm, and for some reason had chosen not to finish it with synthetic skin. The result was a dangerous looking robotic metal forearm and hand protruding from a simple brown Vulcan cloak. It was an arresting, yet somehow comforting sight for Crusher, who was in no way looking forward to entering the dreaded cargo bay once more, certainly not alone. At least with Data and T'Pel, she didn't feel quite as vulnerable. The question still remained, though, what were they doing here? Captain Picard had called them a few minutes ago, but he hadn't elaborated. In Crusher's experience, that was not a good sign.

Data was the first to turn and notice as the Captain and a rather small, but imposing Vulcan approached the group. Picard and the man halted in front of them. Picard quickly introduced Delegate Stahl to his officers and apparently he already knew T'Pel. To Picard's surprise, Stahl hardly looked at T'Pel, but what was conveyed was decidedly unfriendly, even for a Vulcan. T'Pel for her part merely removed her hood and stood calmly.

"Delegate Stahl has requested to see Ra'Val prior to returning to Vulcan," said Picard. Based on our recent difficulties handling Ra'Val while in his cell, I want to take precautions. Commander Data, I need you to monitor the field strength and ensure that it does not fail while we are in there. Doctor Crusher, you are to administer a sedative and monitor Ra'Val's vital signs. T'Pel, please do your best to counter Ra'Val should he…" he trailed off, because he wasn't entirely sure what it was she had done last time to protect him from Imhoff, and to thwart her brother's attempts to kill him, but she had.

"I understand, Captain," said T'Pel.

When the bay doors opened, the cargo bay was dimly lit, save for the eerie blue light projecting from Ra'Val's energy field prison cell. Picard stepped inside. "Lights, 40 percent," he said and the light increased significantly. Their collective gaze fell on the still, huddled, naked figure inside the floating energy bubble. Data immediately walked to the generator and began checking the controls.

Data turned to Picard, who was standing behind him expectantly. "The shield strength is holding at 95 percent Captain."

Picard nodded. "Good," he murmured. Beverly moved past him and took out the sedative agent from her med kit. Quickly measuring the amount, she grabbed the thin tube which ran along the length of the floor, the other end of which was floating inside the energy cell. She injected the sedative. They all watched Ra'Val's form intently, and conscious of every twitch of his muscle. But he remained still.

That was when Stahl rushed forward quickly toward Ra'Val. Alarmed, Picard rushed forward to try and stop Stahl. He heard Beverly shout for him to wait. He felt Crusher grab his arm in an attempt at pulling him out of the way. But she needn't have done so. Suddenly his feet were stuck in place and he could not move forward, try as he might. T'Pel was holding a forbidding hand out in his direction. He realized now that she was trying to protect him by stopping him from moving any closer to Ra'Val. Realizing her good intentions, he stopped resisting, and she gradually let him go. He grew still, standing next to Beverly and Data.

* * *

Almost immediately, events unfolded very quickly. Stahl stepped in front of Ra'Val's floating prison cell before T'Pel could stop him. She seemed to understand his intent even before he pulled out the object and pointed it at Ra'Val's huddled form. Picard stared at the innocuous looking object in Stahl's grip and recognized it as the data pad the Vulcan had used to transmit information to the High Council while in Picard's office earlier. But now, he had it pointed at Ra'Val as though it were a weapon.

Judging by T'Pel's reaction, it was. T'Pel began shouting phrases in Vulcan that he did not understand as she rushed toward Stahl. Stahl swiftly turned on her and leveled the weapon at her head.

"Do you know what this is, T'Pel?" he asked as she halted before him.

"Yes," she said staring from the weapon and back to Stahl. T'Pel had a look in her eye that was as desperate as Picard had ever seen her convey, and in that moment she could have been the most desperate Vulcan who had ever lived.

"Then you know how it works," Stahl said slowly. "Now calm your mind and tell your compatriots to calm _their_ minds; or you will all perish along with your brother."

Reluctantly T'Pel took a step backward. "He is correct," she called out to Picard and Beverly. "He is holding a psionic resonator. It magnifies emotion; especially negative emotion, and turns it against the aggressor. You must quiet your minds and eliminate fear and anger," she said still peering warily at the object in Stahl's hand.

Picard could tell T'Pel was still considering leaping upon the man to disarm him, but instead she stood very still. Picard was shocked by the level of loyalty she was apparently still compelled to show her brother, an admitted murderer.

Picard glanced at Beverly and Data who in turn looked at him, but he had no idea what to do aside from following T'Pel's instructions. Of course for Data calming his mind was not an issue, but he turned to Beverly. "Try and block the fear as much as you can," he said trying to sound as confident as possible.

Crusher compressed her lips nervously and nodded, staring with apprehension at the scene in front of them. Suddenly she gasped and he followed her gaze to see that RaVal was now waking up. His coiled body loosened, and straightened as much as possible inside the cramped globe of energy. His arms raised, palms upward. He was now facing Stahl who continued to hold the odd weapon at the ready.

Picard suddenly had the urge to get his people out of there. "Let's get out of here," he said in a low voice. He grabbed Crusher's hand and turned toward the cargo bay doors, but was again frozen in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Beverly was also unable to move.

"What is happening?" she whispered, still gripping his hand tightly. He could feel her fear increase and mix with his own. With great effort, Picard twisted his head to look toward Ra'Val and with horror saw that Ra'Val had turned and was watching them with a penetrating stare. He felt that familiar hold on his mind, and now knew why they were unable to move.

"Data, run!" yelled Picard. "Tell Riker…" Data did run; he ran faster than Picard had ever seen anyone run. But then as quickly as Ra'Val shifted his focus to the android, Data was lifted off of the floor and tossed through the air as though he were weightless. He hit the bulkhead with such a force that when he slid to the floor, apparently unconscious, there was a noticeable indentation in the wall.

* * *

"The High Council's fortification is taking direct fire, now Commander," said Yar. "The _Ishran_ used its main cannon to weaken the outer defense shield."

"How many civilians are within the fortification?"

"Mostly all civilians sir," responded Worf, sitting at ops. He looked up from the information streaming in front of him. "The computer estimates ten thousand individuals inside the outer Council city walls."

"The High Council is not a military body," said Troi. "If the Council is destroyed the Vulcans will literally have no governing body left. Some of Vulcan's greatest minds are located in that small city."

Riker rubbed his chin. Captain Picard had authorized him to use force if necessary. With the _Ishran_ and other Andorian battleships continuing to escalate the assault on Vulcan, there seemed to be few options left.

"Increase power to the forward shields," said Riker, getting up from his seat. "Heading 241 Mark 6," he said. "Ahead full impulse."

"Aye sir," said Geordi. "On that heading we will intercept the_ Ishran_ in fifteen seconds, sir."

Riker walked up near tactical and leaned his hand on the railing next to Lt. Yar. "Everyone hold tight. We'll make a pass over the top of the _Ishran _and as we approach I want steady phaser fire across the bow."

As the ship skated quickly toward the Andorian ship, the Enterprise was rocked by incoming fire. "Steady," said Riker, grabbing the railing. "Fire," he said firmly.

"Phasers firing, sir," said Yar. "The Andorian's shields are damaged but holding, sir," she reported.

"Minor damage to our forward shields, Commander," said Worf.

Riker raised his hand. "On my mark, fire aft photon torpedoes. Target the main phaser cannon."

"Fire," he shouted again.

"Got it, sir," Yar exclaimed. "The main phaser cannon is down."

"Good," Riker said grinning and turned around to look at Troi. She allowed him a small smile, which faded as the ship was rocked again. _Shit_, thought Riker.

"We are taking heavy fire, Commander," said Worf. "The Andorians are in pursuit."

* * *

"If you intend to kill me, Stahl then I will give you one chance to do so," said Ra'Val. He made no attempt to break from his cell. It seemed clear that he did not need to be outside of his cell to cause havoc. His voice seemed to vibrate through the entire cargo bay and surround everyone. It was a captivating, frightening voice. It was in fact the first time that Picard had heard him speak, that is, outside the confines of the dreams and visions in which Ra'Val had visited him.

He dimly realized that he was still holding Beverly's hand. Picard felt the hold on his mind and body loosen gradually as though he were inside Ra'Val's relaxing fist. Perhaps even Ra'Val could not be everywhere at once. _Think again, Captain, _he heard Ra'Val's voice in his mind, and was spun into the air, landing with a thud on the deck. Disoriented, he struggled to his feet, with assistance from Beverly. "Jean-Luc, try not to think about anything," she said, pulling him to his feet.

They watched helplessly as Stahl held the psionic device steady with two hands and pointed it at Ra'Val. The device began to emit a humming noise that reverberated up through their feet and into their throats, resulting in a vibrating sensation in their skulls. Picard and Beverly shut their eyes tightly as the sensation grew unbearable.

Crusher fell to the deck, and rolled into a ball hugging her knees. Picard dropped as well, and crawled to her side with an agonizing slowness. Tears streamed silently down the sides of her face, and she opened and closed her fists against her body. She turned from side to side almost frantically. "Beverly please don't be frightened," he murmured, feeling the pressure between his ears and inside his skull increasing. He felt as though his body was beginning to feel the intense pull of gravity against the deck, but he knew it was either the psionic resonator, Ra'Val's power, or an oppressive combination of both.

Jean-Luc crawled next to Beverly and pulled her close to him. She buried her face in his shoulder and groaned from discomfort. Feeling the pressure inside his own skull increase he clasped his palms over her ears in a feeble attempt to try and protect her. She unclenched her hands long enough to wrap her arms around his torso and squeeze him tightly. Jean-Luc felt warm liquid running from his ears and nose, and saw red droplets fall almost dreamily to the deck, and spatter. _Are we dying?_

Beverly gripped him tighter and began to speak to him. He had no idea what she was saying, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to keep talking so that they would be able to stay alive. Her arms jerked once, when the screams of Stahl echoed over and over as his body was ripped into millions of particles. They didn't have to ask themselves what had just happened. The painful pressure in their ears began to lessen and normal sound and thought crept back into their minds. Picard pulled his hands away from Beverly's ears and stroked her hair gently, as she began to sob into his chest. _I love you_, he thought, before consciousness left him.

* * *

**2020 is off the hook! I hope everyone is well and can stay healthy and safe with all that has been happening in this world. -PP**


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